War of the Winds, Book 1
by EarthBorn93
Summary: At the Battle of Nightfall the White Walkers were defeated. Later on a surprising reconciliation was attained, the world shifted, and a new age began. That was eight years ago. Yet all is not yet well in the new Twin Kingdoms. From the edge of the world rival empires emerge, looking at a weakened Westeros with hungry eyes. The War of the Winds begins, and all will change with it.
1. Prologue

**Prologue: Points of Divergence**

Groaning with pain, Lyanna got to her feet, and with a crazed scream she charged, a dragonglass axe in her hand. Seeing her coming, the dead giant grabbed her lifting her into the air, making her drop the axe she held. Lyanna felt her breastplate begin to buckle. In a few moments her chest would be crushed, and she would die. But if the giant brought her close enough to its head first, then perhaps…

When it came the dragonglass spear came as a total surprise to her. It flew right past her and impaled itself in the giant's one remaining eye. With a final crackling scream the enormous wight disintegrated and she fell to the ground with it. As she lay there injured, she felt strong arms pick her up and carry her away as the dead began to swarm through the broken gate in their hundreds. Her savior, an unsullied soldier that had somehow lost his helmet, handed her over to men of her house.

"Get her to safety." The Unsullied soldier told the others in the common tongue.

"I can still fight." Lyanna protested.

"Don't be foolish my lady, you are hurt." One of her soldiers said.

"The northman is right. Listen to him. Survive this day and live well little lady. Do so for me." The Unsullied soldier said. He gave a final nod and an encouraging smile to her before picking up a weapon lying on the ground and charging at the wights. He managed to get two of them before he was set upon by several dozen of the creatures.

"No…no." Lyanna whimpered quietly as the Unsullied soldier was pressed to the ground and torn apart. She felt miserable that another had to sacrifice himself for her sake, unable to do anything to help the one who had saved her as she was hauled away by Mormont soldiers.

* * *

"She's hateful. And so am I." Jaime said in a voice that was meant to put an end to the argument, no matter the cost.

"You know that isn't true." Brienne countered, much to Jaime's surprise. "You've changed. You may deny it, but you know it. You can't throw all that away for Cersei. She doesn't deserve it. She never did."

"And what do I deserve? I've just told you what I have done and who for." He said angrily. Then he sighed tiredly. "People like me don't deserve happy endings. We don't deserve redemption." He tried to reason with her.

"Redemption isn't about deserving it. If it were none of us would ever get it. It's a choice. It's never too late to come back." She said.

"And why should I try to repent? Why shouldn't I die as I lived, by sacrificing for a horrible woman I happen to love? Isn't that exactly what I have earned? Give me one good reason to remain!" He demanded.

"Because I love you!" Brienne blurted out, leaving both of them stunned by her admission.

After he recovered from his surprise he smiled sadly. "I don't deserve that either."

"It doesn't change the way I feel. And I think it doesn't change the way you feel about me." She said, gently taking his face into her hands.

Jaime knew at that moment he wasn't going. He had lingered too long, allowed Brienne to get to her. He would hate himself for leaving his sister to die. Then again, he was going to hate himself whatever he did wasn't he? With a final defeated sight he embraced Brienne. She returned his embrace, and there in the yard of Winterfell the two of them remained, holding each other close.

* * *

"You cannot do this!" Jon exclaimed, having decided to confront Daenerys about her plan to attack King's Landing.

"You don't understand!" She said. "They killed Missandei! They killed Rhaegal! You can't expect me to just let them get away with that."

"And how will destroying an entire city help make up for that? Why must you hurt everyone else to get at the ones responsible?"

"It will help me take the Iron Throne. Missandei, Rhaegal and all the rest I have lost, they all died for nothing if I don't succeed. But once the throne is mine everything will be better. The world will finally be free of tyrants, and everything will be as it should be." She said. "Will you help me do this, or are you betraying me as well?"

"Betraying you?" Jon repeated in disbelief. "Don't you hear yourself? Don't you know who you are starting to sound like?"

"Who?" She asked uncertainly.

"Your father." Jon said gravely.

"It won't be better. I told you before, if you use dragons to burn cities and melt castles, you're no better than all the shit rulers that came before you. You're just more of the same. I did not come all this way to replace one monster with another." He said then, not leaving her a chance to respond.

Daenerys seemed taken aback by Jon's words, as if she could not believe he had just said that. "I'm not a… monster. I'm not my father." She said with a shaky voice.

"You will be if you do this. If you do this then Cersei wins. Because she will have remade you in her image. And you will have failed in your quest." He said.

"Then what would you have me do? Stand down and let her win? That would be better?" She said in challenge.

Jon took gentle hold of her shoulders. "Fight her without becoming her. Show restraint. That's the best revenge you can have on her, by proving hers isn't the only way. Don't betray your principles for this. Don't betray yourself. Don't betray those who believe in you. Don't. Please."

For a brief instant she seemed about to burst into tears. Then her face turned stone cold, she slowly removed his hands from her and turned her back on him, not wanting to look at his face.

"You spoke to me about making a better world. Of breaking the wheel. If you burn innocents it will never happen. So the time has come to choose. Did you mean anything you said, or was it all a lie? Did the ones you lost follow you for a reason, or were they all fooled? Did I love a lie?" He said.

"Leave me. Get out." She said sharply.

With a final frown of disappointment, Jon turned and strode from the room. Daenerys closed her eyes, a single tear rolling down her face…

* * *

One by one Lannister swords clattered to the ground, the soldiers giving up on fighting for a hopeless cause. Tense moments of waiting followed, shouts of *ring the bells* echoing throughout the city.

Then the bells rang. First one, then another, then more and more, filling the air with their clamor.

In that moment Daenerys felt hollow, empty. This had been too easy. It was not enough. The need for vengeance was still clawing at her insides like some creature. Her eyes were locked at the Red Keep, a symbol of all she had lost, all that had been taken from her family, all that she had endured to get this far.

Uncontrollable rage began to build up inside her, a bubbling, searing madness that thundered inside her skull like drumbeat. Just when she was about to lose herself in her own fury voices of earlier conversations echoed in her mind.

The first one belonged to Varys: "Do not become what you have always sworn to destroy."

The second one was that of Jon: "Did I love a lie?"

"No! No." She said, louder than she had intended, blinking and breathing quickly, as if she had just woken from a nightmare.

"I won't do it. I'm not that. I'm not him." She told herself. With significant urgency she flew Drogon beyond the walls and out of the city.

On the ground a Lannister soldier pointed in the air: "The dragon! It's leaving!" Cheers arose from the Lannister ranks, relieved smiles on every face. They only quieted down when they remembered they were still face to face with enemy soldiers. Grey Worm snarled at them, brandishing his spear, intending to attack them until Jon took a firm hold of his arm.

"No. They've surrendered. It's over." Jon said firmly. The two men eyed each other for an uncomfortably long while until Grey Worm pulled his arm free from Jon's grasp, marching toward the gate, seething all the while.

Back at where the wall had been breached Tyrion gave a sigh of relief. Perhaps thigs would work out after all.

Many hours passed until Tyrion, still waiting at the breach, noticed Daenerys, walking alone past the corpses of the Golden Company.

"Your Grace. Drogon…?" Tyrion asked as he moved to follow in her steps.

"Sent away for now. The state of mind I'm in, I might do something very inconsiderate if I were still riding him." She said, her voice colorless.

"Well, I at least am pleased that…" Tyrion began to say.

"Don't…say… anything." Daenerys interrupted. "I can't think about what happened. I'm not ready to talk about it. Right now I can't think of any of it."

"What is the situation in the city?" She asked after a pause.

"The Lannister garrison has surrendered. Jon Snow has led the troops to capture the Red Keep. The city is ours now."

"They surrendered to Jon?" She asked, clearly uncomfortable with the idea.

"To Grey Worm, at Jon's insistence. It was felt that as the commander of your Unsullied it was more… appropriate.

"I see…" She said, uncertain how she felt about that.

"Where is Cersei Lannister? I want her brought before me." She said.

"She's… dead. Along with Euron Greyjoy." Tyrion said.

"Dead? How? By whom?" She asked, astonished.

"We do not know. All we know that their deaths were violent. Someone killed them." Tyrion answered.

"Pity." She said, resentful. "Show me their bodies at least. I need to see them. I need to know they are dead." She said then.

"As you wish." Tyrion said. "Jon Snow is waiting for you in the throne room."

"Then let's get this over with." She said.

After she had seen the bodies of Cersei Lannister and Euron Greyjoy, after she had confirmed with her own eyes that they were dead, slain by some unknown assailant, after feeling the pangs of disappointment that she was denied the chance to kill them herself, she instructed Tyrion to see that her troops were settled and that the city was secure. In truth she wanted him gone, so she could be alone with her thoughts. She eventually found her way into the throne room, where she found Jon, just standing there. Aside from him the hall was empty. When he noticed her, he gave him a small smile, stepped aside and raised his hand toward the throne. "Welcome home Your Grace."

With a cautious, uncertain nod of acknowledgement she slowly approached the throne. At the base of the steps she halted, suddenly apprehensive about climbing the rest of the way and seating herself on that throne.

"Oh, what's the point?" She abruptly exclaimed, her voice breaking. "In months I'll lose this to you anyway. These people love you not me. They have no use for me. None at all."

"It's over. I lost, even now." She said, bowing her head, sobbing. "That thing was my focus for as long as I can remember." She said, pointing at the throne. "Everything I did, good or bad, my quest always lingered in my thoughts. Now it is gone, and now I have nothing. I have no other prospects, no other dreams to pursue. I don't even have place I could belong. No home, no family… no people. All those that followed me, living or dead, my friends, my children, all for nothing. All lost, for a throne I will never hold."

For a while there was silence, her weeping the only sound to be heard.

"These people can learn to love you. It will just take time, and work, as it did for me. As it did for you in Essos. You took the first steps today. The people of King's Landing will remember your mercy. They will remember you killed no more than you had to. Such a thing has never happened in living memory, and it will not be forgotten. And as for me? They will have great difficulty installing a king that refuses to press his claim." Jon said finally.

"But Sansa…" Daenerys began to say.

"Sansa wants to protect the North. As do I. If we can give her that I believe she will relent on her efforts to put me on the throne. The North and the Vale follow her direction. The southern lords do not know me well enough to care about my claim. If we can mollify her then the threat against your rule will be no more."

"What are you saying?" She asked.

"I'm saying we can still fix this, if we are willing to work at it. It won't be easy, and we must both be willing to compromise. You may not hold all the kingdoms at the end of this, but at least you will have something. You can still get what you wanted."

Daenerys considered. "It would be better than where we are now. At least then there would be hope. It is worth the try."

"We will need a good place for it, somewhere where we can talk and keep talking until we have figured this out." Jon said.

"I have an idea on that. We can discuss it later." She said.

Jon nodded and was about to leave when Daenerys turned back to him. "Jon… thank you. I was alone, despairing, in pain. You saved me. I almost became my brother. I almost became my father. Without you I'd have been lost and would have done terrible things and called them justice. And now you have given me hope for my future."

Jon smiled. "And I thank you. Thank you for remaining true to yourself. Thank you remembering who you are. Thank you for earning the throne you wanted."

Daenerys hesitated before asking her next question: "And what of us Jon? Can we still be fixed?"

"I don't know. I still love you. But knowing everything that we know… it will be a lot to get used to. I don't know if I can." He said.

"Go wherever your heart leads you. I will accept the outcome, whatever comes. And I will always remember the time we had together, however brief it was." She said.

* * *

"You would like me to do what?" Jaime Lannister said, having been brought to King's Landing some time ago.

"We would like you to seize Riverrun, using our armies." Jon said. "Currently the castle is held by remnants of house Frey. We have tried to convince them to surrender but they will not. Now we need you to take the Castle from them. We intend to negotiate for the future of Westeros and we need that castle to do so."

"But why me?" Jaime asked.

"Your sister is gone. None of us can change that. I will not lie to you, I'm glad she's dead, but that said I sympathize with your loss. I have an inkling of how much she meant to you. I thank you for remaining in Winterfell when we confronted her. It cannot have been easy." Daenerys said.

"You should not thank me. I did not do it for you. Either of you." Jaime said, a slight anger in his voice.

"Doubtless not. But we benefitted, and so I am grateful even so. Nevertheless, with everything that has happened we are left with the question of what to do with you. If you are to remain in Westeros we need proof of your allegiances." She said.

"So you would like me to go to this castle and wipe out its defenders? A little more blood spilled to prove my loyalties?"

"If you can convince them to stand down then by all means do so. But if not… then you know what must be done. The choice will be their own." Jon said.

"What more proof do you need of my loyalty? I fought the dead for you." Jaime asked.

"You did. But that was enlightened self-interest. We need you to do this for us personally. If you do this for us then you will be reappointed lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West. Any misdeed you have committed in your past will be forgiven, and your good acts will be remembered, as is only appropriate." Daenerys said.

"You imagine I want to have that castle?" Jaime said.

"It's a better option than anything else you have on offer, a chance for you to begin again. Your future will be what you make of it." Jon said. "With whomever you choose to build it with." He added, giving Jaime a knowing smile.

"All right." Jaime said after a moment of consideration. "How soon do you wish me to do this?"

"As soon as possible. This needs to be done promptly. The longer we wait the more difficult this will be for all of us." Jon said.

* * *

Daenerys took the quill into her hands, dipped it in ink, briefly regarded the paper in front of her and with a slow, measured hand wrote her full name on it. Next to her name she poured red wax, waited briefly for it to cool, then affixed the Targaryen sigil on it. Then she laid it atop a stack of other papers. To her right Jon had finished doing the same. They glanced at each other and then rose together to address the hall full of Lords and Ladies of Westeros.

"My Lords and Ladies. It is accomplished, and you have witnessed what has been done. Our wars are done, and a new age beckons. The age of the Twin Kingdoms" She said.

"This day promises a new beginning for all of us. Let us together rebuild these lands, that we may share in the days of peace." He said next.

"My Lords and Ladies, I give you King in the North, Jon Snow, Aegon the Sixth." Said Davos Seaworth.

"My Lords and Ladies, I give you Queen in the South, Daenerys Targaryen." Said Tyrion Lannister.

"Long may they reign! Long live the Twin Kingdoms!" Tyrion said.

"Long may they reign! Long live the Twin Kingdoms!" Echoed the nobles in the hall before erupting in cheers and applause.

"It's done. We did it. I can scarcely believe it." She said as people were slowly beginning to file out.

"Yes, we did." Jon said.

"Has there been any news from Arya?" She asked.

"No. She just vanished. I worry about her." He said.

"If I hear anything I will send word." She said.

"Thank you." Jon said. "Will you hold your coronation soon?" He asked.

"Yes. I think it better not to wait, lest there be even more trouble. And you?" She said.

"I don't know if Northerners actually hold coronations. We do things more simply. It seems to me that when enough Lords begin shouting *King in the North* at you, then suddenly you are a king, que countless headaches." He said, making Daenerys chuckle.

"I guess I should prepare for my return to Winterfell. There is still much to be done, many wounds to heal. I have this nagging feeling our troubles are just beginning. We will speak before I leave." He said.

As Jon left Daenerys spotted Sansa among the crowds and went to talk to her. "Lady Stark, please stay, I would speak with you alone."

Sansa seemed visibly alarmed that she was about to be left alone with the Queen. She looked for Jon but could not find him anywhere. When only the two of them were left, Daenerys returned to the table, with Sansa following close behind.

"Please, sit." The Queen said.

"I'd rather stand." Sansa said.

"Suit yourself." Daenerys said, sitting down herself.

"Your Grace I…" Sansa tried to say.

"Don't call me that." Daenerys interrupted. "I'm not your Queen any longer. I don't think I ever was for you. You may have called me such but your heart wasn't with you when you did. You didn't mean it."

Sansa nervously licked her lips before trying to speak again. "If-if this is about what I told Tyrion…"

"You did what you did for reasons you doubtless considered very good. I'm not here to judge you for it. Its Jon's trust you betrayed, and if he wishes to punish you for it then that's his business. Even so you should know that that decision was part of a chain of events that very nearly made me into something terrible and almost made me commit an atrocity beyond description. It was only through the courage of others that I contained myself and that outcome was avoided. That is something you should remember the next time you hatch schemes against someone. But as I said I'm not here to judge you, and it is not what I want to talk to you about." Daenerys interrupted again.

"Then what is?" Sansa asked, frowning.

Daenerys took a deep breath. "We have been at each other's throats since we met. I now wish for that rivalry to come to an end. If not friendship, then at least we should establish an understanding. I'm going to need you. As of today you are the second most powerful woman in Westeros. You have significant influence in the North and the Vale. The Vale happens to be on my side of the kingdoms."

"I do not rule there." Sansa pointed out.

"Not officially. But Robin Arryn is a sickly boy that doesn't rule much of anything. It's you the people of the Vale listen to, and so it's you I need with me. It doesn't have to be perfect between us, but it has to work. Otherwise this whole thing will come crashing down." Daenerys said.

"I love Jon, even if it comes to pass that he will never be able to love me back. He is my family. You can be too, all of you Starks, if you'll let me. And maybe one day I can convince you that I'm not a monster." Daenerys added softly.

A smile tugged the corner of Sansa's mouth. She nodded toward the stack of signed papers. "Today was a good start."

"I guess I just have to hope I survive whatever Jon has in store for me." She added with some apprehension.

"I suspect that you will be fine. He is not a vindictive man, which is sadly more than can sometimes be said for me. He will likely scold to the point of exhaustion, and after that you can likely look forward to being appointed Wardeness of the North." Daenerys said.

"A Wardeness?" Sansa said.

"He will need people that can govern in his stead when he cannot, someone he can delegate tasks to. For all our differences I can think of no better choice." Daenerys said.

"We shall see. For the future, Your Grace." Sansa said, giving a curtsy before leaving. For the first time Daenerys felt that Sansa had meant what she said.

* * *

**So… this felt like something I had to do. About episode 5 of season 8, for my part I was hoping for a more traditional ending for Game of Thrones. I knew it was never going to be bunnies and sunshine, but still I was hoping for a relatively happy ending. I think a lot of us wanted the same, which I believe is a big chunk of the controversy despite what people say. Alas, it was not to be, or at least I think it won't.**

**Some have said that what happened with Daenerys's character was character assassination. Ultimately I cannot agree with that assessment. Yes, she could be kind and gentle and compassionate, and in many ways her character was a good person, at least by GoT standards. Yet there was always another side to her that sometimes was shown, a darkness lingering just under the skin. I can think of at least three occasions in previous seasons where she had to be talked out of burning major cities to the ground. Those times she listened. This time it was not enough. What she became in the end was always a risk, just one I thought would never actualize. I thought it would be something that she would confront and overcome. There were always warning signs. We ignored them because a lot of messed up things happen in GoT and we wanted to believe in her. I know I did. I guess we are all feeling like Tyrion Lannister right now, putting faith in someone only to have that faith smashed. I know it hurts. It does for me. Maybe once we have had a chance to calm down and can look at things objectively we can all see it. And before anyone says that it was the show writers who ruined her I think this has Martin's handwriting all over it. Standard writers would not have the guts to pull a stunt like this, and unexpected reversals like this are just his style. It's like the character arcs of Jaime and Theon, only in reverse. I'd be stunned if this was entirely the show writer's idea. We already know they have discussed with Martin how this story is going to go.**

**Anyway, I felt like the story I was going to write could not be done from the foundations of where the show is now, so I made… revisions, which is what this prologue chapter is all about. My original thought was that you could play the games and watch the show as is and then read this story and see the stories intersect. Clearly this is no longer entirely possible in the context that exists now, not in the setup that I made. But we can get close, and this story can be considered an alternate history of what could have happened had some moments turned out differently. I will post the first proper chapter soon, after the final episode. The War of the Winds is about to begin.**

**A final thought for all of us: Stay strong. Whatever happens to the characters we care for, they will always live on in us, and they will be exactly as we imagined them. **


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1; Winds are rising; **

**Characters of the chapter:**

**Roland Quintley, **soldier of the Inquisition.

**Avery "Magpie", **Brother of the Nights Watch.

**Oleg Lefain, **Sergeant of the Inquisition, commander of the Inquisition garrison of Eastwatch by the Sea.

**Ser Bradley, **Brother of the Nights Watch, Commander of Eastwatch by the Sea.

**Joachim, **Soldier in the Orlesian Imperial Navy.

**Gerald, **Soldier in the Orlesian Imperial Navy.

_**Cursive/Bold text in the chapter is Orlesian**_

It was a quiet night in Eastwatch, rebuilt after its destruction years ago. Even the Wall had been rebuilt to a degree, more out of a sense of tradition than anything, though the current structure was less than half the height it had been originally. Almost all days and nights were quiet on the Wall these days. Barring the occasional smuggler, lost merchant or an Orlesian patrol frigate deliberately overextending their patrol route, nothing such happened that would have required the attention of the Night's Watch. At this time most of the residents of the castle were asleep, with only a few guards keeping watch through the small hours, and not all of these were entirely attentive in their duties. The castle itself was designed in much the same manner as Castle Black, a square shaped set of walls arranged around a central courtyard within which lay the several structures that the inhabitants needed. The gate to the castle was on the eastern side, with a small dirt road leading to the docks. The docks themselves were a series of wooden platforms sticking out into the water, with many small, single sail ships laying in dock for the night. Other ships were out on patrol and not expected back until the next morning. The most notable feature was the tall watchtower in the south-eastern corner of the castle. The top of the tower was open, with a diagonal wooden roof held up by wooden beams to keep snow and rain away from the space underneath it. This space was equipped with a single scorpion, a lit brazier that offered warmth and served as a beacon to ships at sea, and a bell to give signals. Far above, on the Wall itself, there was another such watch post with the same setup of equipment. In this tower two men were on watch, chatting to pass the time. One was wearing black clothes as befitted a brother of the Nights Watch, while the other was dressed in the uniform of the Inquisition.

"So, I've been meaning to ask, where are you from actually, Roland? I mean, I know you're from Thedas and all, but where from there?" asked the man of the Night's Watch, a man named Avery.

"Me? I'm from Kirkwall as it happens. Do you know of it? It's in the Free Marches." replied the man in the Inquisition uniform.

"I may have heard something about it. What's it like?" said Avery.

"It was a home I suppose, though I don't regret leaving." Roland said, shrugging. "As a kid I had a pretty decent job cleaning the city streets with the rest of my family. We weren't wealthy, but we never had to go hungry either, not like some people. But I just finally got fed up with the job and signed on with the Inquisition a few years after the Breach war." he then explained.

"So… you just left because you were bored!?" Avery asked, shocked.

"Well, not exactly, but by the time I was old enough to join up, the big rumble with the Breach and the Elder One had already come and gone, so it was not like I had a big just and righteous cause to serve at that point. The Inquisition found me worthwhile work to do though." Roland said.

"Man, if I had had a steady job like that, I would have never given it up, not just because I was bored." Avery declared, shaking his head.

"You might rethink that statement if you had worked in Kirkwall." Roland commented dryly. Avery gave him a puzzled look and Roland continued his explanation: "I mean, for goodness's sake, every fucking morning for years the streets were so full of corpses the whole city looked like a Maker damned battlefield. Street thugs, mages, templars, abominations more than once, Qunari that one time, and random civilians on top of all of that! And every now and then we were called to clean out corpses from the Chantry or the Viscount's keep. The bloody Chantry, can you imagine it!"

"What? You must be joking." Avery said in disbelief.

"Not in the slightest. That city always had a lot of death in it, more so than any other place I have ever been in. Not really sure why, though the city always felt a little…wrong, like a bad wound. And if you've heard of Kirkwall, then you must know about Champion Hawke as well. Crazy fool managed to get tangled up in just about every mess in Kirkwall. So he decides that every random bad guy in Kirkwall needs to go, and he and his pack of friends go on an epic rampage for about seven years, wiping out every baddie they get their hands on. Of course in the end it doesn't work, and dead baddies get replaced by new ones, and guess whose job is was to clean up the tracks. Though come to think of it, I can't really tell which ones were done by him and his, I just heard the stories, same as everyone else, saw him fighting personally a few times." Roland explained in a tirade.

Avery simply stared at Roland, dumbstruck. "You Thedosians are mad, did you know that?"

Roland burst out laughing: "Yeah, we know alright. Not everyone is as crazy as Hawke though. He was special like that. Damn impressive fighter at any rate. Beggars the belief to be perfectly honest. I don't know how he managed any of the things they're saying he did. I suppose some of it MUST be just stories." he continued, still chuckling. "Well, Kirkwall could be pretty strange at times, but not every place in Thedas is like that. Most days it's as normal and ordinary as it is here. And there is a lot of beautiful and interesting stuff to see too." he added in a more serious tone.

"Yeah, I've heard a lot of amazing stuff, unbelievable stuff from the others. Would like to go see it." Avery said wistfully.

"You should visit if you get the chance, as one who has seen it I can tell you it's worth the effort." said Roland.

"There's not much of a chance of that. Men of the Night's Watch aren't really allowed to travel, and they behead you if you leave without permission. And it's not like I would have the coin to pay for that anyway, not with the life I've had." Avery said, regret in his voice. Then he paused, considering something: "Though…hmm…do you think they'd let me join the Inquisition?"

"I see no harm in asking. And I can tell you it worked out for me in the end. Meaningful, important work, free room and board, a little coin for the work you do and you get to talk to all sorts of people, see all kinds of things. Take this place for instance." Roland turned his gaze to the giant construct of ice. "Damn, must've been something pretty scary to put up a wall like that."

It was Avery's turn to chuckle: "Scary doesn't even begin to describe it, let me tell you a few things about it…" Then Avery suddenly stopped, squinting at something he thought he had seen out on the water, eyes scanning the expanse of blackness. "Did you see that?" he asked of Roland.

"See what? Is something out there?" Roland asked, his light manner gone, replaced by stern alertness.

"Not sure, I think I saw a shape, something big a few hundred meters from the docks dead ahead." Avery said, pointing the direction with his hand. "And listen…" They both went quiet and they could hear small sounds carried over the water: creaking of wood, the flapping sound of a large section of fabric lazily fluttering in the wind.

"A ship?" Roland asked.

"Can't tell, damn I wish it wasn't new moon." Avery said with frustration in his voice.

After a moment of grinding his teeth together in consideration, Roland made a decision: "Alright, let's ring the bell for possible ships in the water and set up a flare."

Nodding, Avery went to work on the Scorpion while Roland rang the bell in the watchtower twice: Ding-Ding, Ding-Ding!

As Avery prepared the scorpion to fire, he noticed how Roland pulled a bronze colored cylinder from one of the pouches of his uniform, extended it to its full length with a yank and raised it to the height of his right eye, peering through it. "What in the Seven Hells is that thing?" Avery asked.

"It's a spyglass, lets you view faraway objects with more precision. Qunari make them." Answered Roland without turning his gaze from the scene of water he was observing.

"How come this is the first time I'm seeing that?" Avery queried.

"Because these things are fucking expensive, and you, true to your nickname, try to steal anything shiny you come across." Roland commented dryly. "What?" he said, raising an eyebrow after noting the offended expression of Avery "Look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn't nick this."

Avery opened his mouth to retort, then thought better of it. "Good point" he said finally. "So…can you see anything?"

"Nothing yet" Roland grimaced. "Going to definitely need that flare, how's it coming?"

"All set!" Avery declared with a curt nod, lighting a scorpion bolt with a tip of tightly bundled cloth, oil and tar with a torch.

"Alright, launch!" Commanded Roland, and the bolt left the machine, arching through the air, lighting up the darkness as it went. In the orange gloom the silhouette of a ship could be clearly seen. Moments later another flare flew through the air, coming from top of the Wall, bringing light to the darkness a second time.

"Looks like the Wall guys had the same idea as we did." Avery commented after seeing the second flare.

"That's a ship alright, and a huge bitch at that. Might be others too, but not sure." Roland said, still looking through his spyglass.

"How can there be even one ship, let alone many? Our ships were not supposed to be back yet, were they?" Avery wondered, puzzled.

"There's no way that's one of ours, it's too big." Roland said, shaking his head. "Too big to be smugglers or Orlesian patrollers either. Urgh, probably just some bunch of traders being moronic, forgetting to set up the lights for the night." "Look, they seem to be putting them up right now" he pointed with a smile "let's get ready to signal them, get this mess sorted out." Then his smile froze, his eyes widening with shocked surprise: "Hold on, those aren't ship lights, they…GET DOWN!

Just as he shouted his warning, a swinging motion of machines on the ship sent a pair of flaming shots arching through the air, straight at them.

"WHAT THE ACTUAL SHIT!?" Avery shouted as the both of them threw themselves to the floor just as the shots turned on their final death dive. One shot slammed to the body of the tower, causing the entire structure to shake, while the other flew over fortress, impacting the far wall on the western side of the fortress, the part where they kept their horses. Even as the first shots struck home, new lights lit up in the distance, and soon new projectiles of death were launched to the skies.

As soon as the first shots struck home, men and women in the barracks were startled awake from their slumber. An Inquisition sergeant practically sleeping in his armor was the first to respond, launching himself upright in an instant, his instincts taking over. "Out, Out, everybody out, arm yourselves, let's move, move it you lazy inbreeds!" he bellowed, drawing his sword. Everyone in the barracks scrambled to grab weapons and make their way to the exit, many of them still in their night clothes, while others hastily grabbed what articles of clothing they could before running to the doors. Just as people began to stream outside, a shot landed to the centre of the yard, raising a small mushroom cloud of flame into the air, the shockwave knocking everyone to the ground. Many were set ablaze, screaming, writhing and trashing as the flames consumed their frames. Those who survived got back up and started to respond to the ongoing attack as best they could. Another flaming projectile overshot its mark, striking a glancing blow against the wall, sending a shower of ice splinters and flaming debris to rain down on the courtyard below.

The commander of Eastwatch, ser Bradley, emerged from his rooms, still pulling on his clothes and buckling on his sword belt. He ran across the yard and hurried up the watchtower, bounding up the steps three at a time. As soon as they came within earshot he shouted to the two men in the watchtower: "Avery! Quintley! What in the seven hells is going on in my fort!? Who's attacking us!?"

"No idea ser!" Roland shouted, forced to yell over the noise of shouting men and shots roaring past. "There are at least five ships in the water pounding us, no idea who sent them as of yet! We can barely see anything and this – a flaming projectile passing nearby made him crouch briefly – shitstorm isn't doing us any favors!" Suddenly Roland's eyes blew wide as he saw another ball of flame flying straight towards his face. The others saw it as well and all of them embraced the floor boards again. All three men grunted as the roof was torn away to the sound of cracking wood and the whooshing sound of flames passing overhead. "You rutting whorespawn!" Avery shouted at the enemy ships after the shot passed and they got up again.

Just then another man of the Nights Watch ran up to the top level of the watchtower, shouting: "Commander, enemy troops have arrived by boat, they're attacking the dock guards! We need reinforcements; they're setting fire to our ships!"

Nodding briskly, ser Bradley turned to speak to the two tower guards: "I need to get back to it! You two stay here and report any developments!"

"And find out who the hell we're fighting!" he added as he descended the steps.

Once back at the ground level, the Commander spotted an Inquisition sergeant directing the people in the yard, roaring like an enraged dragon: "You six, save the horses! The rest of you, put out those Maker damned flames! And by Andraste's holy knickers, watch out for incoming rounds! Move it!" The Commander ran to him shouting an order: "Lefain! The docks are under attack, take a unit out there and reinforce our positions! Drive these bastards back, whatever the cost!"

Lefain nodded, turning to a group of his soldiers, drawing his sword. "First platoon, with me!" he shouted, and the group turned to run to the gate and the path that led to the docks. Meanwhile, Roland was still looking at the enemy ships, trying to find something, anything, to find out the identity of these attackers. It was then that e saw it, the flag of the enemy near the rear of one of the ships, briefly showing in the light of yet another round being prepared for firing. The flag was of bold blue color, like the sky on a cloudless day. On the flag there was a golden mask, rays of golden light expanding from it like the sun. The flag was all too familiar to him; he had seen it many times, in this post more than anywhere else.

"Orlesians?" he gasped hoarsely, his voice stolen from his throat, hoping that his eyes were deceiving him.

* * *

On the docks an Orlesian navy soldier named Gerald rammed his sword through the torso of a man dressed in black from head to toes. He kicked him off his sword, and his body tumbled over the wharf and slid into the water. With no immediate enemy looking to take the dead ones place, he took a moment to look around himself to see how things were going. All around him Orlesian soldiers were fighting more of these men in black clothes. The enemy was putting up a reasonably good fight, but they had been caught by surprise, and at this time they were outnumbered. The Orlesians were working in two groups of roughly equal size, the first group engaging the dock guards, keeping them off the back of the second group, which was working systematically through the enemy vessels, setting them ablaze with bales of hay, oil, tar and fire grenades. Despite the resistance they were facing Gerald's people were making good progress, and one by one the enemy vessels were being set aflame.

Gerald's musings were interrupted when he heard sounds of shouting. He turned and saw a fresh group of enemy soldiers charging into battle, swarming from the fortress. Gerald picked the closest of these enemies and attacked. He and his enemy exchanged several blows, steel clanging against steel. Then Gerald sidestepped, dodging the attack of his enemy, using the resulting opening to slice his opponent's belly open. His guts spilling out, his opponent collapsed on Gerald's feet. Now that he was dead Gerald could take a closer look at his opponent. What he saw made him curse: The dead man was wearing the unmistakable armor of an Inquisition soldier.

"_**Watch my back**_**." **he told one of his soldiers, then made his way to the other group of Orlesian soldiers, pushing his way past the press of soldiers.

When he reached the Orlesians setting fire to the enemy ships in the docks, he began waving and shouting at one of them: **"**_**Joachim! Oi! Joachim!"**_

"_**What!? I'm a little busy at the moment!" **_Shouted the soldier Gerald had been calling.

"_**Get this job wrapped up quick! There's Inquisition soldiers here, there's going to be an incident!" **_Gerald shouted at him.

"_**Should we abort?"**_ Joachim asked in return.

"_**No, the mission comes first!" **_Gerald said. **"**_**Just get it done as fast as you can."**_

Gerald then turned back to address his soldiers, causing those who were not immediately fighting someone to turn to him: **"**_**Alright, kill the blackcoats as you will, but keep the Inquisition types alive if you can. **_Just then an Inquisition soldier managed to press her way through the fighting to attack him. Gerald blocked her attack and smashed the crossguard of his sword hard across her face, knocking her out cold.

"_**Yes, just like that. Thank you for the emphasis."**_ Gerald commented to her still form, then went to seek his next enemy.

And so the fight raged on, Orlesians killing Inquisition troops and blackcoats, blackcoats and Inquisition troops killing Orlesians. Disciplined as always, Gerald's troops were doing their best not to kill the Inquisition forces, although in the heat of battle this often could not be helped. With the enemy reinforcements now committed to the fight and his own soldiers forced to hold back for fear of killing Inquisition soldiers, Gerald saw that his people were starting to lose ground, one by one falling at the hands of their enemies despite their best efforts and the kills they inflicted in return.

"_**Come on Joachim, hurry it along, we're dying out here." **_Gerald grumbled as he kept fighting on. Finally Joachim gave a shout and a wave that the last of the enemy ships had been set ablaze. Gerald nodded, shouting to his soldiers: _**We're done! Fall back, fall back! Back to the boats!**_

One of the blackcoats tried to take advantage of his momentary distraction only to have his knees sliced open by Gerald's sword. Declining to finish off his enemy, he turned on his heels and ran with his soldiers back to where their boats were, hastily slashing at any foe that came too close. He stopped only to help his soldiers still stuck fighting enemy soldiers as he passed, working with them to clear a way through the enemies blocking their retreat. As they reached the boats he stopped urging his soldiers to board the boats as quickly as possible. As soon as the last of them stepped onto the boat, Gerald quickly glanced around himself to make sure that all of his soldiers were either on the boats or dead before jumping on himself, waving for the soldiers on the rows to begin rowing. As they gained distance from the docks arrows began to fly around them, causing splashes as they impacted the water around them, impacting the planks of their boats, causing them to crouch as low as possible to avoid being hit. Some of the enemy arrows still managed to hit home, the bodies of his soldiers crumbling into heaps at the bottom of the boats they were in, or slipping over the edges and into the water. One of his soldiers, a woman by the name of Jocelyn boldly stood up, planting her foot on the rim of the boat to steady herself, and fired back with a bow of her own. One of the Inquisition soldiers on the docks fell backwards, landing in the water with a loud splash, his chest punctured by a blue feathered arrow. Archers on the other boats also opened fire and for several scary moments the air was full of whispering death sent by both sides. Eventually their boats made it out of arrow range, and the exchange of fire came to a halt. As the shooting stopped, there was a collective sigh of relief in Gerald's boat. One of his soldiers sounded off with a horn and upon hearing the signal, their fleet stopped bombarding, flaming projectiles no longer arcing through the air.

When he became convinced that the battle was done, Gerald glanced around himself, taking stock of their current situation. _**"We did it. Nasty mission though. Any guess how many we lost?"**_Gerald asked Joachim, who was sitting right next to him.

"_**No idea as of yet, won't know until we get back to the ship and make a full headcount. Inquisition types made things a bit more complicated than I would have liked."**_he replied.

"_**Yeah, the captain thought they wouldn't interfere when they figured out who we were. Suppose the Inquisition takes its local commitments a bit more seriously than we hoped." **__Gerald said. __**"Do you think there will be complication because of this? I mean… we did kill some Inquisition soldiers, right? The Lord Inquisitor won't like that one bit."**_he asked next.

"_**There might be some consequences, but nothing too serious I would think. Official protest maybe, or temporary sanctions."**_Joachim agreed._**"We don't plan on getting in the Inquisition's way unless they get in ours. Plus we and the Inquisition are old time war buddies. The bosses at Skyhold won't want to sacrifice such good relations unless they think they have no choice, and the Emperor is likely not going to give them a sufficient excuse. Doesn't matter to us none in any event, we were just following orders." **_

"_**Hope you're right Joachim. Sure wouldn't want to fight Inquisition forces full time. Very good fighters, the lot of them. Still, we got the job done, and we inflicted at least as many casualties as we s…" **_Gerald said before something moving at great speed flashed past him, interrupting him. That something, a bolt from a scorpion, impaled Joachim in the chest, throwing him violently off the boat to land in the water with a splash. For a moment Gerald simply stared, processing what he had seen. **"Son of a… keep your heads down, all of you!" **he shouted to the rest of his people when he recovered.

"Nice shot, Magpie!" Roland congratulated back in the tower.

"Yeah… thanks." Avery replied hoarsely, too spooked by recent events to take in the compliment. "Um, could we get off the tower now? This whole place feels far too wobbly for my tastes." He added, concerned. And indeed, ever since the body of their tower had been shot at the beginning of the battle the structure had been rather unstable, swaying softly on the night winds, the wooden frame creaking in a very alarming manner. The pair exited the tower quickly, and no sooner had they done so that the tower fell over with a resounding crash, falling outside the walls, people in the courtyard shouting in surprised alarm as it went.

With the battle now concluded the brothers of the Night's Watch and the soldiers of the Inquisition set about dealing with the aftermath. The remaining fires were put out (sadly far too late for their ships, which were reduced to charred frames.) and the wounded were tended to. Additional guards were posted to watch for the return of the enemy, unlikely though it was, as most agreed. Sometime later that night Avery, Roland, Ser Bradley, LeFain, the Sergeant that had led the Inquisition counterattack in the docks, and a number of others were gathered around some enemy corpses gathered from the battlefield.

"Yeah, these are Orlesian alright." LeFain commented, observing the corpse intently. "From the look of these white padded coats I'd say these are navy troopers. Army troops would have blue coats with red trimming.

"Orlesians…" Bradley repeated gravely. "What in the hells did they attack us for?"

"A-any chance this was a misunderstanding?" Roland asked uncertainly. "I mean, we did shoot some flares before they started shooting, maybe they interpreted that as an attack."

"No way that's the case, that's just stupid." LeFain retorted. "It would be the most epic overreaction in the history of the world. One or two shots maybe, but that storm? And nothing excuses assaulting our docks and incinerating our ships. No, this was deliberate, and I doubt it was the last we have heard of it either."

"What do you mean?" Bradley asked.

"I mean, when they attacked us they went straight for our ships, and once those were burning they suddenly lost interest and fucked off." Lefain explained. "I'd say the ships were the main target of the attack, the bombardment being just for support, to give us something else to think about. They wanted our fleet out of the way for something. I reckon there's a bigger fleet on the way and these were sent ahead to make sure we can't interfere when they get here."

"The Seven hells for?" Avery queried. "The Night's watch isn't supposed to take part in fights like this."

"Yeah, that's the truth of it, and the Inquisition would be hard pressed to attack Orlesians without provocation." Lefain agreed. "But they don't know that. If they know it, I don't think they believe it."

"We need to report this attack at once." Bradley stated firmly. "Avery, find Maester Todd and tell him to send a raven to Castle Black that we were attacked by orlesian warships, that we've sustained heavy damage to the castle as well as … call them moderate casualties, I'll send a more accurate count when I know what it is. Our ships are destroyed except the ones currently on patrol, which are currently unaccounted for. Tell the Maester to send word for the King and Queen also, they need to know this happened."

Avery nodded and left to carry out his orders, and then a thought occurred to Bradley: "Lefain, you're Orlesian right?"

"That's right, ser, why?" Lefain answered with a puzzled look.

"That should be obvious." Bradley stated firmly. "Eastwatch has just been attacked by people from your home nation." Bradley said. "Look, there's no delicate way to ask this, so I'm just going to ask it. Can you be trusted?"

"Absolutely, ser." Lefain said at once, confidently. "I work for the Inquisition and the Herald, no one else. Whatever the Emperor and his goons are up to here, I have no wheat on that field. Sorry, country saying, means I'm not involved."

"I can vouch for him, commander ser." One of the black brothers joined the conversation. "I was one of the dock guards during the attack. The enemy had us; we'd have gotten our asses kicked if not for the attack he led. I saw him fighting; he did as much as anyone else out there, he didn't hold back. He's on our side; I'd stake my life on it. Did, come to think of it." A number of other brothers nodded their agreement.

Bradley gave an approving hum. "Very well then, it seems you enjoy the confidence of my men. I suppose I can do no less. I trust you."

"Thank you for that ser." Lefain said, relieved. "As it is, I think we should consider the possibility that some of my other countrymen have different sympathies. I don't think the Wall is the main target of the Empire, but it doesn't hurt to be careful."

Bradley considered. "Agreed. Consult with Maester Todd; go through the lists of the Inquisition soldiers here and at the other castles. Find out who are from Orlais and which among them we need to ship home in light of today's events.

Lefain nodded and Bradley turned to address the other people gathered around: "If the sergeant is right, and this is the just the first sign of something bigger, it's not likely to be very far away. A few days at most I'd wager. We'll take another look in the morning and see what the situation looks like then. In the meantime I want this fort made as secure as possible. Our ships are gone, so we'll abandon the docks for the time being and focus on defending the fort proper. Build a perimeter of barricades on both sides of the main gate leading to the docks, that'll add to our defenses, and repair the damage to the fortress as well as you're able. The fallen watchtower should give us plenty materials for both projects. If that's not enough, go to the far side of the Wall and cut down a few trees for more materials. You can cannibalize materials from the docks as well if you need to, as long as they remain reasonably intact. Anyone who isn't working will be on watch, officers included. This night none of us will be sleeping."

"Also, collect weapons and armor from the enemy fallen, as well as anything else we can use. We will need it all. As for the rest… we'll handle our fallen, and the Thedosians will handle theirs, including the enemy attackers. Give them all a decent burial according to the tradition you know." He added, followed by grim nods from those in attendance.

"Any questions?" He asked then, receiving no reply. "No? Alright then, let's get to it!" he said, clapping his hands together.

And so they went to work. They rebuilt the walls and repaired the damage to the various buildings as much as they could in the time available. Out of rubble they built a semi-circle outside the gate leading to the docks, both ends touching the stone wall of the fort. Another similar one was built inside the walls, enclosing the area around the gate inside a circle of wood and stone rubble. Just as Bradley had guessed it would be, as morning dawned, they got a much clearer picture of the situation.

They did not like what they saw.

Out on the water, before the docks, lay the five ships that had attacked them. Each of them was a huge, with many sails and several hundred oars. The uppermost quarter of the ships were painted with a bold blue color, while the railing of the upper deck was painted in red. No rams could be seen on the ships, the vessels apparently relying on ranged attacks to win their battles. The ships carried catapults on fore and aft castles responsible for last night's bombardment. The sigil of the Orlesian Empire was displayed of flags and sails that were currently being unfurled as the ships were preparing to leave, all of them fluttering and snapping in the breeze. Worse, though, was what lay beyond these five ships.

For beyond them, the sea was full of ships:

Small, single sail patrollers all too familiar to the night's watch from their frequent excursions from the Corridor. Medium weight ships with three decks of oars, strong rams and ballistae at the front. Huge fat-bellied transports. Blocky ships designed for assaulting a beachhead, their prows fitted with ramps which could be lowered upon landfall and more of large ships such as those near the docks. The inhabitants of Eastwatch by the sea were gathered on the walls of the fort to gawk at this display of naval power.

"Maker's balls, there must be hundreds of them!" Roland gasped.

"It's a full blown invasion force is what it is." Avery said.

"Lefain" Bradley addressed the Inquisition sergeant "Tell the Maester… we need to send more ravens. We have to warn the kingdoms."

"Yeah." Lefain said hoarsely. "We must."


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2; Lord in the place where the sky was held;**

**Characters of the chapter**

**Rydeon Cadash **Lord Inquisitor of the Inquisition, Lord of Skyhold

**Cullen Rutherford **Commander of the Inquisition army, member of the Inquisition War Council, advisor to the Lord Inquisitor

**Charter **Spymaster of the Inquisition, member of the Inquisition War Council, advisor to the Lord Inquisitor

**Josephine Montilyet **Ambassador of the Inquisition, head of the Inquisition's diplomatic corps, member of the Inquisition War Council, advisor to the Lord Inquisitor

"You're certain of this?" Lord Inquisitor Rydeon Cadash asked as he was making his way towards the War room for a meeting.

"There's really no chance of a mistake." replied the elven spymaster Charter, formerly an agent of the Inquisition, promoted to the rank of spymaster when Leliana had gone on to become Divine Victoria. "Something like this cannot really be hidden. And on that same note, I must offer my apology."

"An apology?" Rydeon asked, surprised.

"I should have paid more attention. I should have been able to notice this, before the invasion was in progress. The signs were always there. I simply didn't take note of them; my focus was elsewhere, and for that I'm sorry." Charter explained, clearly embarrassed of herself.

"I don't blame you." The Inqusitor said reassuringly. "No one caught it, not even the Twin Kingdoms, and they're under attack currently. And your focus was exactly where I would have it be. Solas is a far greater problem than anything the Orlesians can cook up."

"But it's my job to be aware of these things before anyone else is." Charter argued. She sighed loudly. "There are still days I think I'm the wrong person to replace Sister Nightingale, especially since I'm an elf. Normally I'd be the last person to bring up racial issues, but when working to oppose an elf that primarily has other elves as his agents... well it can undermine a spymaster's authority. Many of the people I've had to investigate have questioned my right to put them to question at all, since the grounds for keeping an eye on them also apply to me."

"I understand that Leliana left quite large shoes behind for you to fill, but honestly I think you have performed rather well. She must have thought as much also, since she recommended you. I think it's high time you stopped doubting yourself." Rydeon said.

Charter didn't say anything in return, instead simply considering the Inquisitor's words.

"As for your heritage… you rather clearly proved your loyalty right at the start, at least as far as I'm concerned. It's not every day a spymaster insists she should be investigated by a reliable outsider on her first day on the job. I don't see how you could possibly be suspected of anything after that." He continued when his spymaster didn't reply.

"And that was why I wanted that done. It was the only way I could do my job without having the shadow of suspicion hanging over my head whenever I did something. It seems that for some even that wasn't enough." Charter explained.

"Well, that may be a situation that will fix itself now that Solas has widened the pool of his recruiting to include the Promisers, although it won't make our job any easier. Now we have to be suspicious of elves **and **humans." Rydeon said. "But we can continue this discussion at the meeting. Now we should hurry, so we'll be on time. Being fashionably late hasn't been a thing in the Inquisition since the Winter Palace." he said then, his last comment earning a small laugh from Charter.

The War room was more or less the same as it had been during the Breach War, dominated by the large table where the map of southern Thedas was displayed, along with markers signifying the different operations the Inquisition had going on in different areas. Two other tables had been added to the sides of the room, one table bearing the map of Westeros and another one of Essos. To guarantee accuracy of the information displayed, both maps had been painstakingly acquired from archives of the locals. Upon entering Rydeon and Charter found Cullen and Josephine already waiting for them at their customary places. The Inquisitor and the Spymaster quickly took their places as well. Moments after another woman entered the room, going to stand at the left side of the main table, earning a hostile glare from Commander Cullen.

"What are you doing here?" he asked of the woman.

"You can relax commander. I'm here by the Inquisitor's invitation. I'm not sure myself why I've been asked here, but I suspect I will find out." The woman said, holding up her hand defensively.

"She is right, Cullen, on both counts. You can leave her be for now." The Inquisitor said, reassuring his commander.

"As you say, Inquisitor." Cullen said, calming somewhat, although he continued to direct sour looks at the woman.

Rydeon cleared his throat: "Well, I guess we should get started. The first order of business today is the Orlesian invasion launched against the Twin Kingdoms that the Spymaster has just informed me is in progress. "

Charter nodded in confirmation, while the other members of the war council exchanged concerned looks.

"What is the current situation?" Cullen asked.

"Well, it appears that the latest batch of reinforcements to the Corridor were **not** reinforcements, but the final assets of a large invasion force. My agents are still working to make an estimation of numbers, but a force in the high tens of thousands seems probable. Currently we are not certain who is commanding the Orlesian forces. As we speak Orlesian forces are emerging from the Corridor and heading down the coast of Westeros." Charter answered.

"It seems that the first battle of the invasion has already taken place at Eastwatch by the Sea. It appears that in accordance with our agreements with the Night's Watch, our forces took part in the defense of the fort. I regret to inform you our forces sustained several casualties during the battle." She added with a sigh.

Cullen shook his head angrily at the news, while Rydeon turned to the Ambassador: "Josephine, have you heard anything on political channels? Something about the Empire's motivations of invading now, or their justifications in doing so?" he asked.

"Nothing as of yet, although my people are not nearly as fast in their reporting as the Spymaster's." Josephine said, giving Charter a nod of compliment, which Charter returned. "However, it seems likely that the Orlesians have planned ahead and have already briefed their emissaries so they can bring other kingdoms up to speed. I don't expect we'll be in the dark for very long."

"Good, we shall know more of the Empire's intentions when that happens." Rydeon commented. "Do we know anything else?"

"I have heard some unofficial rumors that the Orlesians might be attempting to call this an Exalted March." Charter supplied. "I took the liberty of sending messages advising Divine Victoria of this possibility. I expect she'll issue a full denial, if these rumors are indeed correct."

"Good thinking, and I expect she will do that. She's not fond of having her authority misused in this fashion." The Inquisitor agreed.

"Meanwhile, I believe we should consider our own response to these events." Cullen said. "The Orlesians attacked our garrison and killed our people. That cannot go unanswered. The Inquisition army stands ready at your command, Inquisitor, in whatever capacity you require."

"I too agree that the actions of the Orlesians demand some kind of answer on our part, but I would argue that this response should be primarily focused at diplomatic actions against the Empire." Josephine joined in.

"At this time, any military retaliation on our part, however justified or limited in scale, would be interpreted as an act of war. That would kill any chance for us to work as mediators and bring a diplomatic solution to this issue, should we wish to do so. And in wake of such a retaliation everyone would assume that we have decided to ally ourselves with the Twin Kingdoms, which is an interpretation we likely want to avoid under these circumstances. I don't approve of the Orlesian Empire starting a war in this fashion, but the fact remains that they have been our steadfast allies for years. The Twin Kingdoms may become a valued ally and a friend in time, but for now they are a faction whose relations with us are neutral at best. To sacrifice our close relations with the Orlesians for such a questionable alliance would be a terrible move on our part." She then explained.

"I would have to agree with the lady ambassador this time." The spymaster gave her opinion. "If the Orlesians decide that we are their enemies, they'll try to oust us from our holdings within the Empire. And since the Fereldans have always been critical of our activities, they might be emboldened to try the same in such an event. Worst case scenario then is that we lose the bulk of our holdings in Thedas. And even in the best case this would leave our forces depleted and our alliance system in tatters at a time when we are likely to soon need both against our real opponents."

"I see. Thank you all for your recommendations." The Inquisitor said. "As it is, I agree, a military action is not in our best interests at this time. That said, I do believe there is something our troops can do as part of a mission of mercy. I have a response in mind, one that will make our stance abundantly clear. I'll consult each of you separately to work out the details, and then Josephine and I will determine the proper wording for a public declaration."

There was a chorus of nods from the people attending the meeting.

"Well, I think that's enough about the Orlesians for one meeting. We should move on to other topics of the day. Cullen, how is our military doing?" The Inquisitor asked.

"We are doing very well at the moment, all things considered." The Commander replied. "Our recruitment and training proceeds on schedule and our forces are doing their utmost to keep the peace. We have recently uncovered more elven artefacts. Those have been confiscated or destroyed as per our standing orders. The only thing we are lacking currently are significant opponents, although now that the Order of Fiery Promise has sided with Solas, that may change soon enough. Between our attacks and them succumbing to their own corruption, the Red Templars are all but gone. We still continue to run into the occasional Behemoth in the wilderness, but that's it. The Venatori threat has also passed with their retreat from southern Thedas and their civil war concluded."

"True enough." said the stranger woman. "Though I feel I must correct you. The Venatori civil war is still very much ongoing. The Reformers are still in the game, despite the defeats suffered. The recent events represent a change in tactics and overall strategy, no more. We would be foolish to assume that the Loyalist Venatori are defeated either, far from it. Their footholds in northern Thedas remain, and their presence in Essos continues to expand daily. And as we now know, they even have cells within the Twin Kingdoms."

"You would know such things better than I do." Cullen admitted reluctantly.

"Well, on the subject of Venatori in the Twin Kingdoms, what is the situation in Westeros, Charter?" the Inquisitor asked.

"The assassination plot against the Queen has been successfully uncovered and foiled. My agents are now following up on the secondary leads we have uncovered, sweeping King's Landing for any other Venatori operatives." the Spymaster replied.

"Good, that should wipe out most of their agents in the city, maybe as much as nine tenths. The rest will be scared into hiding until they have had time to rebuild their assets." the stranger woman said, nodding her approval.

"Are the Westerosi aware of the situation?" Cullen asked.

"Yes and no." Charter replied. "As far as we can tell, they know that something big has happened and that the Inquisition had a hand in those events, most likely due to the information exchange we had to arrange. However, I believe they are unaware what exactly happened, why, or who the other actors were besides us. With their spy organizations being as rudimentary as they are, I don't think we have to worry about them finding out unless we choose to inform them."

"Is that something we wish to do, your Worship?" she then asked.

"I'll get back to you on that." "Rydeon answered "The point seems moot as far as the assassination plot itself goes, but maybe they should be informed of the threat the Venatori represent overall, as well as other opponents that may become relevant to them in the fullness of time. If so, however, I will wish to do so personally, when the opportunity to do so arises, lest our warnings be ignored."

"Very well your worship." Charter said with a nod. "As it is, I do believe we owe our guest some thanks." she continued, looking at the stranger woman. "If she and her people had not interpreted the intelligence so astutely, this whole situation might have turned out very differently."

"It was a stroke of luck really." The stranger woman replied "I'm perpetually amazed of the incredible butterfly effect a single intercepted enemy dispatch can have. Regardless, I was happy to be of assistance."

"You may get another chance to do so as it happens." The Inquisitor commented "But first, Charter, continue your report, please."

Charter cleared her throat, and continued: "Well, beyond that incident we have continued to acquire portions of Lord Varys's old spy network. It's hard to estimate how much of the network we control currently, particularly since some of the older, more experienced agents are working for more than one faction simultaneously, maximizing their gains. We know for a fact that the crown of the South Kingdom controls a sizeable portion of the network, mostly through Lord Tyrion, while the North Kingdom seems to ignore this network entirely. Solas likely has some of these agents in his pocket, although we have difficulty ascertaining this due to the inherent subtlety of his operatives. We have also identified interest groups from Tevinter and Orlais actively contesting us for control, and if the Qunari do not have a comparable operation already then I suspect it's only a matter of time until they do."

"I assume you still disapprove of this acquisition of agents, Lady Josephine?" The elf then asked, noting the Ambassador's expression.

"You speak of spy networks and agents, but these are children we are talking about. I am not convinced that using them to spy for us is ethical. I don't think this is something we should be doing." Josephine replied, concern in her voice.

"I don't disagree with that. In fact I share your distaste for this." The spymaster said to everyone's surprise. "I would be hard pressed to involve children in such matters, no matter how useful or how good they are at their work. But they are already involved, and it would be foolish of us to discard such an obvious resource. Besides, if these children don't work for us, someone else is sure to claim them, and we have no guarantee they'll treat them as well as we have. We have already seen attempts to that effect, as I explained."

"Perhaps so." Josephine admitted reluctantly. "Still, it doesn't make me happy."

"I don't think any of us is exactly happy about these kind of choices, but the situation is what it is. Charter is right, it's better that they're with us rather than someone else." Rydeon said.

"On the opposition side of things we continue to have occasional run-ins with Solas's agents, with varying results." The spymaster continued. "I estimate that he is having his agents run reconnaissance on Westeros, but that region is not his primary focus at this time. As to what is, based on the amount of activity we have encountered, northern Thedas continues to be a strong candidate, particularly Tevinter and its surrounding areas. Also, I'm relatively certain that Essos is a second area of focus, though I'm not certain why." Charter said.

"If only I could have my agents investigate and confirm this." She added.

"Have you had any luck establishing a presence there?" Cullen asked.

"Sadly, no progress on that field." Charter said, shaking her head. "The Imperials have the region locked down just too damn tight, and most of the locals that matter aren't exactly sympathetic to our cause. I tried to have us establish ourselves in Braavos, where we might be better received, only for local Tevinter assets to go active and wipe us out. I have advised the Braavosi authorities that their city is infiltrated by a hostile nation in the hopes they can clean this up for us, but I'm not very optimistic. It was a bloody disaster for us. It will be some time before we are ready to try again."

"Keep looking for a way to get this done. We can't have ourselves be blind across an entire continent." Rydeon commanded.

"I hesitate to suggest it, but seeing as we have had no success in putting our own spies in there, perhaps the Imperium should be warned, at least of the threat of Fen'Harel." The stranger woman offered, leaving the room is shocked silence.

"Yes, I can see why you might want to hand over intelligence to the Imperium" Cullen said poisonously.

"I resent your implication." Woman replied coolly before explaining herself: "Currently we cannot operate in the region on any level, which means that we cannot check the activities of Solas **or** the Imperium. I too agree that Inquisition agents in Essos would be the ideal solution for us, but this has clearly been denied us. We have no confirmation that the Imperium recognizes the threat Solas represents, and so we have no confirmation that they will act against him. This would leave him to operate completely unchecked, which is something we cannot allow under any circumstances. If the Imperium were to be informed, I believe they would protect their interests, and we would get at least one of our enemies attended to. This would also have the added benefit of setting our enemies against each other, leaving us all the stronger for their infighting. It's not an ideal solution, but it would be an improvement over what the situation is now. The Imperium in Essos may be beyond our capacity to strike at currently, but this way the Dread Wolf might not have to be."

"No." Rydeon said bluntly. "Even if the Imperium listens to what we have to say and believes our claims, with their heavy handed attitude and ruthlessness I'm not convinced that they will solve more problems than they cause. Besides, it is all too likely that Solas is looking something in Essos to help him accomplish his ends. If the Imperium knows of him they might learn what he seeks as well. And if it turns out to be something retrievable, like an artefact, Tevinter forces will try to take it for themselves. I will not empower one enemy trying to fight another. There will be no informing the Imperium of anything without my express permission."

"As you say your Worship. I was merely making a suggestion." The stranger woman replied.

"Perhaps your agents could assist our own, get us information we need?" Josephine asked the stranger woman.

The woman considered. "Maybe, though I see potential complications. Many of my agents would be known thereabouts. We would have to be extra careful or we might end up with the exact same problems as your people. We would also have to establish ourselves closer to the continent of Essos. Can't have our messages constantly travelling between Tevinter and back, or the time delay will kill the utility of the information we get, not to mention the risk of enemy interception.

"Well, it may be that you will get a chance to do exactly that." Rydeon commented. "This brings us to the reason why I called you here."

"Which is?" The stranger woman queried.

"It occurs to me that while King Jon has people advising him on magical matters through his cousin Brandon and our man Kieran, Queen Daenerys has not yet chosen such an advisor for herself. With the peoples of Westeros coming into constant contact with us Thedosians and conflict with Tevinter looming on the horizon, I have a mind to provide her with one. It will be a friendly gesture on our part, one that should open the Westerosi royals to future dialog, while providing us an ear in the court of King's Landing and additional defenses for a potential ally against further Imperial schemes." the Inquisitor explained.

"A wise move." the stranger woman commented. "We should make sure that whoever we send is familiar with the Tevinter Imperium, and the Venatori if possible. Who did you have in mind?"

One by one the others at the meeting turned to look upon the stranger woman, whose eyes widened as she understood.

"What? You can't be serious." She stammered, momentarily dismissing the notion as ridiculous. "You **are **serious." She said in disbelief upon noting the serious expression of the dwarven man. "But… why me? Why not… **anyone **else?"

"You said you wanted to make amends." Rydeon said.

"And I meant what I said." The woman confirmed "This is just… completely different than what I had in mind."

"I would be remiss in my duties if I did not voice my concerns about this plan. It seems likely to bring us more trouble instead of less." Cullen protested. "That assuming she can be trusted with this at all." He added, directing another hostile glare at the stranger woman.

"Well, this might be the first and only time in all of history, but I must agree with the Commander, although I do think he is more suspicious of me than even I warrant." the Stranger woman replied. "This will be trouble for all of us, not to mention a huge inconvenience for me. I have my own concerns to look after, I really don't think I will have the time for this."

"Then I suggest you make time." Inquisitor Rydeon said firmly "You're perfect for this job, despite what you and Commander Cullen think. I could find no better, and I'm not about to start looking while you are still an option."

"That… and just how I'm the best possible candidate to this? Please do elaborate, because the answer eludes me." The woman asked.

"You're a skilled mage and quite knowledgeable when it comes to arcane matters. You know the Imperium and the Venatori better than any of us here, the very enemy the Twin Kingdoms are likely to end up fighting against in the near future. You have access to an extensive network of covert specialists, which is something the Westerosi generally lack, and through your network you know how to command as well, which is sure to come in handy. You want to do the right thing but you're not afraid to use underhanded methods to achieve your right things, which may be an attitude Westeros will need very soon. You're better for this task than any other mage in my service that readily comes to mind, with the possible exception of magister Pavus, whose work in the Magisterium is far too important for him to be distracted from it at this time." The Inquisitor tallied.

The stranger woman pinched the bridge of her nose. "Alright, an impressive record to be certain, if I do say so myself, but I still don't see how this can be made to work. Why would the queen agree to work with a Tevinter? She hates my people, and I'm sad to say she has every reason to. And if she knew the rest of it… I would never even be allowed within sight of their coastline."

"Well obviously there are things you can't tell her yet, not until you have gained her trust. Use a false identity, you already know how to make that work, as we well know." The Inquisitor replied.

"You wish me to deceive the Queen?" The woman asked, incredulous.

"For the moment that may be a necessary risk, so you will be given a chance to prove yourself. I will leave it on your discretion to determine when the time is right to reveal the truth, if indeed that day ever comes." Rydeon answered.

"If the Westerosi were to discover the truth on their own, if they find such deception in a supposed gesture of goodwill, it could cost the Inquisition a great deal of reputation, not to mention my head for me." The woman noted. "Are you sure this is what you want to do?" She then asked.

"I'm sure. This is risky, but it's the only way I believe. I guess that gives the both of us the incentive to make sure that the truth doesn't come out until we wish it to." The Inquisitor said.

The woman gave a slight, annoyed groan. "I suppose it does at that. It seems I cannot dissuade you, so fine, I will do this. When, though? I suppose since this council has decided not to provoke the Orlesians, joining with the Queen while the war is raging is out of the question?"

"Correct" the Inquisitor confirmed. "We will wait until this war is over. Should the Twin Kingdoms still be around by that time, we will act as we have discussed. And if not, then there is no longer a point of sending a magical advisor to Westeros I suppose."

"So there is still a chance I won't have to entertain this ridiculous idea? That's good to hear." The woman commented dryly. "Just in case this **does **come to pass, you mentioned wanting an ear in King's Landing. Am I to be a spy as well?" she then asked.

"That would be counterproductive in this case, so no." Rydeon replied. "Send information back to us, but do so openly, and in a way that the Westerosi would be welcome to your writings at any time."

"Very well. I was thinking of using the name of Iledia for my identity this time. Will that work for you, spymaster?" The woman asked.

Charter considered. "Hmm… that name then… yes, that will work. It's known to our side but not the enemy. Perfect!"

"Excellent, it's settled then. I trust the Inquisition can assist me in creating a convincing backstory?" Said the woman, now named Iledia.

"We'll make sure that if anyone comes seeking answers, they'll find convincing facts." Charter said with a nod and a knowing smile.

"Very good. Now we have much work ahead of us, and we should get on it. We are done for the day, you may return to your duties." the inquisitor said. "Except you. There is one more thing I would like to discuss with you." he added to Iledia.

With that everyone except Iledia and the Inquisitor left. "So what is it that you wanted to say?"

"It just occurred to me that it is very likely you will have to fight your countrymen, and I wanted to make sure you are okay with that possibility. **Are **you comfortable with that?" The inquisitor said.

"You ask me that **after** you already made me agree to do it? That's fair." Iledia said sarcastically.

"I didn't mean…" Rydeon began to say.

"Of course not. You mean well. You always do." Iledia interrupted. "As to your question, I won't thank you for putting me on the spot, but I will be fine. I have had to fight my own people since long before anyone told me to do it, it's nothing new to me. It's also true that there are ghost in my past that I have been meaning to put to rest for some time. Maybe it's time I went and confronted them."

"I appreciate what you're doing, I truly do." Rydeon said.

"You'd better." Iledia replied, dead serious. "Now, if you would excuse me, Inquisitor, I have work to do, and it would seem, preparations to make." She continued, then left without another word.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3; King in the North; **

**Characters of the chapter**

**Brandon Stark, **also known as the Three Eyed Raven, mage advisor to the court of King Jon

**Jon Snow, **also known as Aegon Targaryen and Jon Stark, King of the North Kingdom of the Twin Kingdoms

**Sansa Stark, **Lady of Winterfell and the Eyrie**, **Wardeness of the North

**Kieran, **Agent of the Inquisition, mage advisor to the court of King Jon

**Wolkan, **Maester assigned to Winterfell

In Winterfell life was continuing as usual for the time being, the people within unaware of what had happened at the Wall not long ago. In the courtyard a training session was in progress, the King in the North overseeing what were among the first lessons in swordfighting for his young son, as well as that of other noble children currently being fostered at Winterfell. Of course Winterfell had a master-at-arms who could have done so also, but Jon recognized his skills with the sword and wished to give his son the very best teaching, even in this. Their weapons were wooden and the children wore padding for safety's sake. Their lessons were currently very simple, the basic attacks and parries, as Jon's son had just recently turned seven.

Meanwhile Sansa was watching from the sidelines, thinking how she would have liked to have Arya to be there also, teaching these children her unique way of fighting. She found herself missing her, hoping she would not have gone and vanished at the end of the War. She also found herself wishing her own child could be out there training with all the rest. Alas, a suitable husband was still waiting to be found, one that would respect her and agree to let her keep the authority and responsibilities she had become accustomed to. One that would accept her terms of taking the Stark name, taking up residence in Winterfell and have any children born of the marriage named Stark as well. It was surprising how prickly many noblemen were about keeping their family name, telling her she was the one who should assume their family name and come with them to their castles, because that was the way it had always been done.

"Only Starks may ever hold Winterfell. No other house shall have that honor. The violation made by House Bolton will never be repeated." Had been her reply to every potential suitor that had told her as much. And although years had passed, marriage remained an unappealing prospect to her. Every time the thought occurred to her, her mind drifted back to previous marriages and the idea of marrying again withered and died in her mind.

"One day I must overcome those fears. The future of House Stark demands it." She reminded herself. She was fully aware that she was now more or less the last chance of house Stark. Jon was through the virtue of his father a Targaryen, even though his manner was every bit that of a northman and even though he frequently made use of the Stark name in ruling his kingdom. There had to be children who were born Stark from the beginning, otherwise the succession of the Lordship of Winterfell would become muddled and could be called into question by the nobility of the North. Arya would have been disinterested in marrying anyone even had she been home in the first place. With Bran on the other hand it had long since become clear that he had moved past thoughts such as marriage, even had his physical condition allowed heirs.

"But there is still time for that. I am still young, and will be for many years." She told herself. "Today is not the day I need to be so brave."

Pushing those concerns aside, her thoughts were drawn back to the children in the yard. "They grow up so fast don't they." she said to Bran with a smile on her lips, who was also there, sitting in his wheelchair.

"They do indeed." Bran replied absentmindedly, reading a book.

"You're not even watching." Sansa commented, a slight accusation in her voice.

"Yes I am." Bran said.

"No you're not" She insisted.

"**Yes, **I am." He said again.

"I can see your eyes glued to that book." She pointed out.

"One set of eyes at any rate." Said he.

"What?" Sansa said, puzzled. "Oh!" she then started slightly as she noticed a raven sitting atop the wall, looking a little too interested in the events of the yard. "Eight years and I still can't get used to this talent of yours." She said.

"I guess that makes two of us." He said.

"But… how are you in your own body and in the raven? I thought that was not possible when Warging." She asked.

"Typically that is true. This is Kieran's influence as it happens. Researching together we have found ways improve my abilities. Only currently works with ravens though, and only single creatures. But it works." He said.

Sansa glanced up to the battlements where Kieran was standing, looking out at the landscape, the wind ruffling the black feathers of his cloak. "You have learned much together haven't you?" She said.

"Much and more." Bran confirmed. "He has taught me of the magic of his people, and I have shared what I can of local traditions. Through him I have gained new insight what greenseeing and warging actually is."

"And you trust him with the knowledge you have? An outsider?" She asked.

"More than many other mages of Thedas I'll admit. He's not a greedy sort. He appreciates the knowledge of the past, wants to preserve it. Something he inherited from his mother."

"Is that something he told you or something you saw?" She asked.

"Both." He said. "Besides, he has shared his knowledge freely, should I not do likewise in return? It seems only fair. Our work is an exchange, to the benefit of both. Together we have walked the fade, learning of many things, more than either would have found on their own."

"I had thought that nothing was hidden from you." She commented.

"Nothing is, but when you see everything, some things may be lost in the background. It's like looking at a landscape. Unless I know what I'm looking for its hard to spot specific things." He explained.

"And so it helps to have another pair of eyes looking at the same things, spotting what you missed." Sansa said.

"Exactly." He said. Bran was difficult to read these days, but he almost seemed impressed.

"And what is it that you have seen together?" She asked, finding herself curious.

"Much of it would not mean anything to you, and other things you might not believe even if I told you."

"Try me. I want to hear it." She insisted.

For a moment Bran gathered his thoughts, considering how best to begin.

"I have witnessed the stories of the Hero of Ferelden, the Champion of Kirkwall, and the Inquisitor. I had had brief glimpses of Thedas before they ever found us, but before Kieran I could never put what I saw into context. Now I can. Since the Thedosians made contact with us, especially after Kieran came into our service, I have seen even more, things drawn directly from the Fade, beyond what the network of weirwood trees can show. More of the past of our lands, and more of the myriad stories that Thedas has to tell. There are even glimpses of what I think are of Andraste and her story."

Sansa nodded, considering these things Bran claimed to have seen. On one hand such vast knowledge was frightening, on one hand deeply intriguing. It had been so when he had first displayed such talents years ago, and it continued to be so now.

"Of course that is ultimately only the tip of a mountain." He continued. "There is much more to see. There are even glimpses of other worlds in the farthest reaches of the fade, places that are not tied to the fade like our world, but that nonetheless sometimes echo in that realm of dreams. I have seen double suns setting in places that we would have no names for. I have heard music being played before our kind learned to speak. Deeds and stories. Civilizations and passions. Wars and struggle. And great beauty. Within the fade, a living memory, preserved for all time for those with the skill to go and see."

Sansa raised an eyebrow, wondering why Bran had decided to go so poetic all of a sudden.

"I once saw a memory of a people who made war in great moving castles fashioned from the hardest steel, battling each other with weapons too terrible for any of us to imagine, searching their destiny amongst seas of sand. I understand they found what they sought, and it brought them a great tragedy but ultimately allowed them to find a home they had forgotten." He continued telling.

Sansa frowned, wondering if Bran was actually serious now or if he was making some kind of elaborate joke.

"There were once memories of a female warrior sailing a strange ship between the stars themselves. A mortal woman she was, fighting to break a cycle perpetuated by dark gods. She fought for many years, and unbelievably she won at the cost of her own life, lighting up her world with a light the color of her eyes, the color of the Fade, changing everything forever. Like Jon she once died and returned to life to finish the fight she started. And the tools she employed… I would have thought it magic, but somehow I knew it was not. Her armor sheathed her in a field of energy that could repel almost any attack, a bit like the barriers Thedosian mages can create. As her weapons she had a gauntlet of orange light with which she could attack her enemies with fire and thunder, and an odd weapon that fired bolts far harder and faster than any crossbow ever designed."

Sansa could not help but chuckle, shaking her head. "I believe you have gone on to spin fanciful stories for my amusement, just like Old Nan used to. Castles do not move, nor are they built of metal, and no mortal may stand against gods. And how could colored light change anything in a world?"

In response Bran gave one of those mysterious smiles of his. "I told you that you would not believe me."

"How could I?" She said. "Next you will tell me you have been to this Black City the Thedosians speak about."

"No, that kind of thing I won't be claiming." Bran said, completely serious again. "No dreamer dare go near that place, not even I. Yet I have a feeling that one day someone has to go there. There is some profound truth there about this world, waiting to be discovered beneath all that darkness.

Bran's tone gave Sansa a moment of pause, wondering at the meaning of his words.

"In any case, seeing how much there is to occupy your mind in the fade, I'm actually rather surprised that you spend any time here with us. Must be dull by comparison." She said then.

"Well, someone once told me that it was beautiful under the sea, but if you stay too long you drown. Breaks like this are necessary." He answered. "And there are times you have need of my advice, so I try to remember to be in the waking world as well, where I can be of some use."

"I'm glad to hear that." She said.

Meanwhile Jon had apparently decided that there had been enough training for one day and called for a halt. While the children went to put away their equipment, he climbed the steps up to the wall where Kieran was looking at the landscape around Winterfell.

"Well, well, what have here?" Kieran said when he noticed the king approach, a mischievous glint in his eye. "The King in the North comes to speak with me. To what do I owe this honor your Grace?" He asked with a playful tone.

"Just seeing how our guest is doing." Jon replied. "Enjoying the view?" he asked.

"Indeed." Kieran said. "I occurred to me that I had never stopped to look at it in all the time I have been here. It is breathtaking. You have a beautiful country Your Grace."

"Thank you. I'm rather proud of it. I just wish it wouldn't be so empty. It would be easier to manage if there were more people to work with. Still, I would not exchange it for anything." Jon said.

"If I may, the emptiness of your realm is one of its most endearing qualities in my opinion. Emptiness brings silence, and when there is silence you can truly listen to yourself. There is much wisdom to be learned from such." Said Kieran.

"You know, when you say things like that, you somehow manage to sound like a man five times your age." The King commented.

"Maybe I have an old soul in a young man's body. Or a memory of such a soul." The mage said, seeming to remember something from his past.

"Meaning?" Jon asked.

"It's complicated. And personal." Kieran replied.

"As you will. I was just curious." Jon said.

"How go the lessons with your son?" Kieran asked next.

"Well enough. He is learning, but it's early yet. Learning to wield a sword properly takes many years, and he is only seven after all."

"Of course. He is learning from the best at least." Kieran said. Before he could say anything else his eyes caught a black spot moving on the sky towards the castle. "That raven… it brings bad news." He said.

Jon glanced at the same black dot, then back at Kieran. "What the…? How could you just know that?" he asked, confused.

"I don't, truth to be told. I just… feel it to be true." Kieran replied.

Jon shook his head, deciding it was folly to ask how Kieran ever knew **anything**. Instead he descended the steps form the wall and walked to the rookery. As he approached Maester Wolkan emerged from the rookery and walked straight to him.

"A raven from the Wall, your Grace, addressed directly to you." he said.

Jon accepted the scroll with a nod, broke the seal and began to read. As he read his expression grew grim. "Call the banners. Find Davos and bring him to me." He said when he was finished, his voice even. Wolkan nodded and left. Jon closed his eyes and took a deep breath to collect his thoughts, then went to look for Sansa.

"We have a problem. Read this." He said when he found her, handing her the scroll. Wondering what was going on, Sansa took the scroll and read the words on it. "Damn…" She said quietly when she was done.

"Should I return to the Vale to organize the knights?" She asked of Jon.

"I am more likely to need you here. Send messages instead." He said.

"Very well." She replied, nodding gravely.

Jon nodded, reassured. "Davos will help you."

"He is not coming with you?" Sansa asked, surprised.

"Davos is many things, but soldier is not one of them. While I know he can command if necessary, I think he will do better here, ensuring we get the support we need." Jon said.

Sansa nodded her understanding. "It will be interesting to work with him. I just wish it had not happened under these circumstances."

"Me too." Jon agreed. "Bran said nothing of this did he?" he asked, to which she shook her head. "I guess even he misses things from time to time." he contemplated.

"I don't think he has been looking lately. And he did tell me once that sensing the future is often difficult. Too malleable." Sansa commented.

"He has said the same to me. Pity." Jon said. He was about to walk away when he turned back.

"...look after Robb while I'm away would you?" He asked.

Sansa smiled. "Like he was my own."

Jon nodded and smiled as well. Then he noticed Davos in the yard and went to deliver him the grim news as well.

War was upon them yet again...

* * *

**Made a few refrences through Bran here, because I couldn't help myself. Points to anyone who can figure them all out. If not, don't worry, its not critical information.**

**So Jon has a son in this story. You'll know his mother soon enough, though most of you might guess it already. I considered several different name possibilities until I figured that he might name him in the memory of his brother. If someone is wondering why is he being trained to use a weapon already, in medieval times beind trained as a knight did start at a very young age. Look it up for yourself if you like, its interesting stuff. **

**Next time were off to King's Landing.**


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4; Queen in the South;**

**Characters of the Chapter:**

**Daenerys Targaryen **The Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains, Queen of the of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men of the South, Queen of the South Kingdom of the Twin kingdoms and Protector of the Realm

**Tyrion Lannister **Hand of the Queen to Queen Daenerys

In King's Landing the Queen and her Hand were in the middle of their morning routine of going through the messages and letters that had arrived the previous night, discussing matters therein presented, so they might be ready for the next small council meeting.

"And the next one is from… ah, Lady Sansa, a reply to our invitation to the Coronation Day celebration. She thanks us for the invitation, but tells us that she is already acting on plans to spend those celebrations in Winterfell with her cousin." Tyrion said.

"Hmm… eight years in a row." Daenerys mused, sipping at her wine. "How many more years do you think it will be before she actually accepts our invitation?"

"Hard to say. Perhaps never. The last time she was in this city she lost almost everything and had to endure many years of horror as consequence. In her mind King's Landing is cursed beyond redemption, so I believe." Tyrion replied.

Daenerys frowned. "The city has changed a great deal since she was last here. All her tormentors are long gone, and I certainly intend her no harm."

"I'm certain she would agree wholeheartedly with you on a rational level. But I've found that fears like this are not always rational and cannot simply be explained away."

"Perhaps. Still, a shame." The Queen said. "I suppose this means that Jon will be staying at Winterfell as well?"

"Very likely yes." Tyrion said, which caused the Queen to sigh with disappointment. "I assume that means you wish it would be otherwise?" Tyrion said, giving a knowing smile.

"Of course I wish that. It has been far too long since we saw each other last, months at least. I miss him, and my son." Daenerys replied. "Maybe I should visit Winterfell instead." she offered after a moment of consideration.

"I'm not certain that you would have the time. Coronation day celebrations mean that there will be official proceedings that require your presence, and preparations to oversee before that." Tyrion said.

"It's not like I would be gone for long. Dragons fly fast. I could be back here in less than a week's time." Daenerys replied.

"Well, maybe that way then." Tyrion mused. "Still, I don't think you should just appear over there unannounced. To host a visit from the Queen in a manner appropriate to her station requires preparation, and preparations, once again, take time. Jon might be willing to forgive you for the breach in protocol, but the castle staff might be a different story entirely. It would reflect very poorly on them if they offered less than their best. Send a raven a few weeks before your arrival at least."

"That seems fair. A raven it is." The Queen agreed. "So, what does the next letter say?" she then asked.

"That would be from Ambassador Derek, requesting an audience to renegotiate some of the tax levels we levy on Kirkwall goods."

"What, again?" Daenerys asked, mildly astonished. "What is it now, three times in the space of a few months?"

"He is persistent, but to be fair he is just doing his job. No doubt our taxation is a strain to many merchants and he is doing his best to ease matters for his own people." Tyrion replied.

"True enough, and I suppose that I should remember that he has been very supportive of us in other ways, that earns him a few points." The Queen said. "It just feels like half the country is up for sale these days, all just to make sure the crowns finances don't collapse because of debts others created for us. At this rate we'll find ourselves auctioning the Iron throne." she added, to which they both laughed.

"Very well, point him at Manfrey. He'll know where we can compromise and where we can't." she then ordered.

"Our master of coin should be able to handle him." Tyrion said, approving.

"I'm surprised to hear you say that. I thought you objected to his appointment?" Daenerys said, raising an eyebrow.

"I did, when I still didn't know him, or his merits for the job. Forgive me for thinking it but I thought you were playing favorites with your choice, particularly since you chose him over all of my candidates. But like with many other things, I was wrong about that. He takes his job seriously, and he has a really good head for numbers." Tyrion said.

"Well I thought he might have. And I thought it wise to keep Dorne happy. Appointing their prince to the council seemed like the best way to do that." Daenerys said. "Let's move on to the next one."

"The next one is from the High Septon, demanding that something be done to defend the Faith against the Chantry presence in Westeros, on the grounds that the Faith of the Seven is still the official faith of the monarchy." Tyrion read from the next letter.

"Presumptuous of him to assume that is still the case. I have not made any official statement that would suggest that." Daenerys commented. "Does he not understand how dangerous it might be to provoke the Chantry?" She then asked. "One has only to look at their history books to realize the risk. The current Divine might not be too keen to declare an Exalted March, but we can't be sure that will always be the case. Even if Victoria remains as merciful as her reputation, one day there will be a new Divine, and who's to say what thoughts she might think?"

"Men like the High Septon tend to think with their faith rather than with their reason. If we asked him, he would likely say that the strength of the Chantry does not matter so long as the Faith in the Seven remains strong." Tyrion commented dryly. "Which reminds me, there is also a letter from the local Chantry officials, calling us to shield them from the *fanatics of the High Septon*. Ironically they seem to use much the same reasoning as he as the basis of demanding our aid."

Daenerys pinched the bridge of her nose, exasperated that she was once again made to balance between these two religious groups, when she herself had no interest in gods. As if she didn't have enough to deal with…

"Send them both the same reply: The Crown's primary interest is the maintenance of peace. To that end, any disruption of peace will be dealt with appropriately, regardless of who the instigator might be. Beyond that, the Crown expresses no interest in deciding questions of faith, nor in expressing a preference in such matters, **or **in taking action to dictate such choices to the citizens of the realm." She told her Hand.

"A strong response, your Grace, though one that is also likely to cause some bristling." Tyrion replied.

"Let it. Perhaps that way they will realize that I'm not taking sides in this nonsense." the Queen responded. "You would think that would have been clear enough from the start, considering I have gone through the trouble of being crowned and married along the rites of the old gods, the new gods and even the Maker when he became relevant to this kingdom.

"Perhaps that just made all three faiths assume that you were on their side rather than the others." Tyrion quipped.

"So it is increasingly starting to seem." Daenerys said, sighing. "Does that mean that all that effort was for nothing?"

"Hardly. Despite everything, it had the advantage of reinforcing the legitimacy of your rule to the largest possible number of people, regardless of their beliefs." Tyrion said in reply.

"A silver lining on every raincloud I suppose." The Queen said. "Still, of all our issues, this is one of the most annoying. One can only hope that we can keep this rivalry from escalating to full scale war, because I don't think we can afford such on any level. But enough about them, I haven't the patience to discuss them further today. Next letter."

"The next one is rather strange." Tyrion said, taking the letter to his hands. "It's from one… Frederick of Serault. He introduces himself as a draconologist from the University of Orlais. He writes here that he is working on a book that argues that the Thedosian dragon and the dragons of Valyria are two distinct species with a common ancestor species. He states here that would like access to your dragon for research purposes.

"Oh… and… what would be involved in this research?" Daenerys asked, unsure what to make of this request.

"He does not specify." Tyrion replied. "The tone of his letter implies enthusiasm that somehow comes across as sounding unintentionally sinister."

"How does one manage *unintentionally sinister* in a letter?"

"I couldn't say exactly how, there is nothing specific I could point to, but it's there."

"Let's write to him in reply, ask for clarification. I won't tolerate anything invasive or dangerous near Drogon." The Queen decided. "Talk to the Orlesian ambassador as well. I want to know this man's credentials before I agree to anything."

"I hope he receives me." Tyrion said with a sigh.

"Why wouldn't he? I thought you two were friends." Daenerys asked.

"We are, as far as I know." Tyrion confirmed. "But of late he has been distant. I do hope I haven't done something to offend him. It would be a shame to lose someone like that. The man has a clever mind and a witty tongue, and knows his wines, cheeses and chocolates better than just about anyone I know. And once when I happened to mention that I wanted to own my own vineyard one day, he went and bought one for me for my next name day, and hired a vintner to help me design the wine to be produced according to my tastes."

"But now you say that something has changed?" Daenerys said thoughtfully, wondering at the meaning.

"It might be nothing in the end, some personal issue of his that's distracting him. Or maybe I'm just imagining things." Tyrion said uncertainly.

"And maybe not." Daenerys replied. "As it happens this is the second odd behavior on behalf of Orlesians lately. Last evening Manfrey told me that there seems to be a marked drop in the number of ships coming to our ports. He only noticed this recently, because it's starting to feature in his income calculations. He looked into it and apparently all traffic through the Corridor to here just stopped about three weeks ago. Ships are still allowed to go to Thedas but nothing is coming back, so the problem must be on the far side of the Corridor."

"You think there is a connection between that and the ambassador?" Tyrion asked.

"Maybe. Something strange is definitely going on, and I don't think I like it."

"If only we could have some of Varys's little birds in Orlais." Tyrion said wistfully. "That way we might have a better understanding of what is going on."

"The last time we tried that none of the ones we sent survived the attempt, and then Orlesian agents sent us a message threatening to wipe out half the children in Flea Bottom at random if we ever tried again. Or at least we think it was Orlesian agents, we cannot prove that it was. Regardless, that's a lesson I at least have learned abundantly well. I refuse to have that kind of blood on my hands a second time."

"If we were to be more careful, we might not be caught this time. The information we get might be worth the risk…"

"No." Daenerys refused. "I have no doubts that they meant the threat they made, and nothing is worth a price like that. And if we defy them again, they may decide that their threat just wasn't sufficient motivation. Then they might decide to target the children of nobility to make their message clearer, and that might include my son. He is well protected, but hardly invulnerable. I cannot gamble with his life. No mother could."

"I understand." Tyrion said, nodding gravely.

"Speaking of weird incidents, do you have an update on the Inquisition activities?" The Queen asked next.

"Their overt work continues as before, occupying the castles at the Wall, recruiting volunteers to work for them and maintaining a diplomatic presence. There have also been more odd incidents in various cities where they might be involved, though as before there is no hard evidence, and we still have no idea what is truly going on."

"What about the incident here in King's Landing?" Daenerys asked.

"Nothing much to say about that I'm afraid. We do know that some kind of big clandestine operation took place, one that appears to have left a small group of seemingly unconnected people dead, but nothing more than that. We can't even say for certain that the Inquisition had a hand in this. The only reason I think they might have been involved in this at all is because they exchanged information with us not long before the incident happened."

"What did the Inquisition want in that exchange? What did you give them?" Daenerys asked.

"Some Tevinter messages I had managed to acquire. How they knew I had them I've no idea, but since I couldn't decode them, I gave them to the Inquisition in exchange for them doing so for me."

"You couldn't decode them?" The Queen asked.

"It's very hard to do without the appropriate cipher available." Tyrion replied. "And even on the off chance we manage to do so, they change the codes every month, sometimes more often, meaning that our ability to decode their messages never lasts."

"I see. Did you learn anything from these Tevinter messages once they were decoded?" Daenerys queried.

"Sadly no. It seems that the Imperials are being very careful, and added a second layer of code. They are using made up terms for everything. Without understanding the meaning of the terms, their writings are almost unintelligible." Tyrion responded.

"Could we use this whole mess to press the Inquisition for answers? Just to get a better idea what in the hells they are doing here?" She asked next.

Tyrion considered. "I don't think so. As I explained, there is no hard evidence that proves the Inquisitions involvement. If they choose to deny everything we wouldn't actually have anything to press them with. Besides doing so might not be in our interests. Given that we were not affected, this whole thing might have been to our benefit." He said finally.

"Be that as it may, I don't appreciate the Inquisition slinking around this way. Favors given in the shadows tend to wilt when viewed in the light."

"…But if the Inquistion sought messages of the Imperium, could it mean that the Tevinters were one of the actors in this mess?" Daenerys asked next, after a moment of contemplation.

"If indeed these events are related, then yes." Tyrion said.

"And this would mean that the Imperium has spies inside the capital itself." Daenerys continued.

"Has or had as the case might be." Tyrion confirmed.

"All this right under our noses and us completely unaware of the situation until the inquisition involved themselves?" The Queen asked, to which Tyrion simply nodded.

"It's an outrage." Daenerys said, shaking her head angrily. "This cannot stand. We can't allow foreign powers to operate within our borders with this level of impunity. If these are the kind of things we are catching them doing, what might we be missing? For all we know these foreigners have a blade to our throat and can shut us down with a single order. I won't have it. Discovering how to match them on this field should be our first priority, else we might all be in danger."

"It will be done, your Grace." Tyrion replied. "The first step is likely to be establishing organizations similar as what the Thedosian nations have. To do so we will need professionals who can show us how to do such a thing in a practical manner. Thedosians themselves are likely a good option. I'll look into finding reliable ones to hire to our service. But what of Jon and the North Kingdom? This is likely as much their problem as ours."

"All too true, and since the northmen don't really play these kind of shadow games, Jon might not even recognize this as a real threat." Daenerys replied. "I'll have to talk to him about this when I see him next, try to make him understand. And if not him, then perhaps Sansa can be convinced, being more experienced in such matters."

"Sansa should be able to understand the problem and treat it with sufficient seriousness. You might even want to talk to her first, since she is now conveniently in the same place as Jon." Tyrion said approvingly.

"I might." The Queen said. "Are there more letters, or are we done?" She then asked.

"That was the last one that requires immediate attention I believe. The rest are day-to-day reports and pleasantries, I can handle those. There's also a report from Yara Greyjoy on her activities against the Thedosian pirates, one that ultimately boils down to *continuing action, but no significant developments*."

"Ah yes, before I forget, there's one more in fact, arrived less than an hour ago." Tyrion said then, producing a raven scroll from his pocket. "It's addressed directly to you, so I haven't had the opportunity to read it, but judging from the seal it's from the Night's Watch."

"Why in the world is the Night's Watch writing us? The Wall is on Jon's half of the kingdoms. It's his job primarily to solve issues that might arise there." The Queen asked, perplexed.

"Asking after new recruits if I had to guess, though I can't figure out what for. The White Walkers are gone and the Wildlings are too few to be a threat even if someone managed to unite them and convince them to attack us. And with their alliance with the Inquisition providing everything for them, I'm surprised they need us at all." Tyrion answered.

"Yes, it does seem a little redundant now that…." Daenerys began to say before stopping mid-sentence, staring at the opened raven scroll with a shocked expression on her face. She blinked, and read the lines of text again, reluctant to believe the words. Her eyes never moving from the piece of parchment, she tried to lower the wineglass in her hand to the table, only to miss the table's edge, the wineglass shattering on the ground. So fixated she was on the raven scroll that she didn't even notice."

"What is it? What's wrong?" Tyrion asked, alarmed.

"Call the small council to convene. Twenty minutes." The Queen said as her answer, her voice full of determination. "Make sure they read that scroll beforehand. Afterwards I want to speak with the Kirkwall ambassador, but not about taxes. That talk will have to wait. And summon the Orlesian ambassador before the court this evening, after all these other talks. The **whole** court."

As soon as she had given her commands she stormed off, walking to the door with brisk steps.

"Your Grace!" Tyrion called to her just as she raised a hand to the door handle. "What has happened?"

Daenerys tried to find the right words to explain. "Read the scroll. I need to think." She finally said, and left without another word. Tyrion reached over the table, taking the scroll from where it lay discarded, wondering what could have caused the Queen to react this way. He read the words on the scroll, the words that told of the attack against Eastwatch, how Orlesian warships had bombarded the castle with fire and death, how they had rowed boats into the port and set fire to the ships that lay at anchor there. His mind quickly connected the dots: The attack, the sudden stop in traffic from the Corridor, the ambassador avoiding him. It had to be connected, and he would bet good money it was just the beginning. He leaned back on his chair and exhaled as the information sunk in.

"Well… shit." He said aloud to the empty room.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5; Daughter of Serpents; **

**Characters of the chapter **

**Tiraen Tasvius **Magister of the Tevinter Imperium, ambassador to Meereen, commander of the 5th expeditionary legion of Tevinter, formerly apprentice to Magister Cato Argos.

**Morzol zo Raqun **King of Meereen, elected supreme speaker for the Resurgent Masters of Meereen

**Pet **slave and blood thrall to Tiraen Tasvius

**Selia **slave to Tiraen Tasvius

_**Cursive/Bold text in the chapter is Valyrian**__. _

In the city of Meereen, the great fighting pit was full of cheering citizens watching the games. This was a special day of games, arranged to host the guests from Tevinter. Consequently the flag of Tevinter was present positively everywhere around the arena and many of the fights had been arranged to themes thought to please these foreigners. In a way the day was also a statement, since a certain Queen had been known to strongly disapprove of the fighting pits for almost the entirety of her reign. Indeed this was the first time since the fighting pits had been open since her departure from the city. In this manner the reopening arranged now was an open declaration, a statement to the city and the rest of the world that there was no longer cause to be afraid of potential retribution on behalf of the Mother of Dragons, thanks to the new allies that were being celebrated today.

In the podium reserved for the most important people, two figures were sitting. One was the newest king of Meereen, Morzol zo Raqun, who had gained his position because he was the wealthiest and the most ruthless, and because all of his potential rivals had mysteriously encountered unfortunate and lethal accidents. That many of those individuals had been supportive of the previous Queen's regime or were otherwise anti–Tevinter in attitude, while the sitting king was notorious for supporting the Imperium's interests without reservation was considered a fascinating coincidence. The king was dressed according to his station in garishly ornate clothes of gold and rich purple lined with leopard fur. There were golden rings on his fingers and long, thick, golden chains adorned with many different precious gemstones around his neck. The outfit was completed with a shirt of golden chainmail meant to invoke his (sadly nonexistent) military achievements. The final result was a blunt, straightforward display of wealth, almost ridiculously so.

The person sitting to the right of the king was a woman of around twenty five years of age. She was Tiraen of the house Tasvius, an ambassador and mage appointed to oversee matters here in Meereen on behalf of the Imperium. She had the tanned complexion of a Tevinter and her shoulder length straight hair was darker than the blackest night, currently neatly combed back behind her ears. Her eyes were of the same color as her hair, dark and deep pits of shadow. Her face and body were clearly featured and harmonious, as if designed by a master sculptor, the result of a pursuit of perfection in bloodlines practiced by the nobility of the Imperium. With high cheekbones and a strong, sharp chin she had a decidedly regal look to her. Her normal facial expression was that of a quiet, patronizing amusement, an unspoken certainty in her rank and authority as well as her ability to defend it, a fact that in her mind rarely needed enforcement, if at all. Her choice in clothing was quite different from that of the king, or indeed anyone else in the arena. She was wearing a long sleeved, hooded tunic with a hem that ended just above her knees, trousers and a long cape over one shoulder covering the left side of her from view. All three pieces of clothing were made from heavy white fabric, so meticulously clean it shone in the warm midday sun. Subtle enchantments ensured that this would be the case no matter the conditions. Even if the sky would have rained pure mud, her clothes would have remained spotless.

Black was the main contrasting color used in her outfit. Black knee high boots on her legs, a black leather belt around her waist set with a single red gemstone and shoulder pads made of black leather and shiny black splints. Her cape bore the twin serpents emblem of the Imperium across its outer surface, again made in black. On her hands she had long gloves of black velvet and on her right hand she had a severe looking steel ring shaped to look like a snake with ruby eyes eating its own tail. The gloves were split from the inner side, so that she could expose her arms from wrist to elbow in two moves. Had she done so the numerous scars on her arms would have been plain to see, marking her for the blood mage she was. Her hair was unadorned save for a single silver chain so delicate it might have as well been a string of rope, twining around the length of a lock of her hair, just above her left ear. Around her neck another silver chain could be seen, part of a pendant she kept under her clothing.

Just behind Tiraen was standing a blonde elf woman in simple but adequate clothes of various shades of brown, head bowed and quiet. Leaning against the armrest of her chair was Tiraen's staff. The body of the staff was made of dark wood and the countless runes across its length, made of an alloy of silverite and lyrium, made it glow with silvery light ever so slightly. The lower end of the staff ended in a long blade of polished steel, while the upper end had been shaped into the likeness of four distinct species of snake rearing to attack, with their mouths open and teeth bared, with small rubies for eyes. Without a doubt her staff was her most prized possession, both due to its monetary value and for its ability to amplify and focus her magical powers.

In the arena the announcer was calling for a new bout to begin, and a pair of combatants ran to the arena. One was outfitted as a Westerosi Knight, the other was dressed as a Dothraki warrior. Tiraen's eyes lit up and a small smile of excitement crept to her lips as she understood what was going on.

"_**You've gathered our enemies to us. Now I understand why you asked me for a Champion for today." **_She spoke to the King in fluent but strongly accented Valyrian, a language she had seen fit to teach herself when she had been appointed as an ambassador to this place.

"_**Indeed"**_ Answered the King. **"**_**I do hope you have chosen wisely, I went through the expense of finding the best fighters I could get my hands on."**_

"_**You k**__**now, I had half a mind to name myself as the champion, but then I decided that would be unfair." **_Tiraen said with a smirk_. _

"_**Unfair!?" **_The King sputtered. _**"I assure these men are deadly, they've spent their lives in killing other men, worthy men…"**_

"…_**and I am certain they will be impressive today" **_Tiraen interrupted calmly _**"but skilled or pitiful, strong or weak, quick or clumsy, all fighters in the world have one very specific trait in common… they have blood in their veins, and I can make it boil. What are they against that?"**_

The King struggled to find the words, clearly disturbed by her admission, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly. Finally with a shudder he turned back towards arena where the spear wielding champion of Meereen had walked to the arena, saluting the cheering crowds with his weapon raised high.

"_**Well, no matter, at least I get to show you all my newest project." **_Tiraen said, resting her chin against the back of her hand, following the events of the arena intently.

The King glanced at her, curiosity in his eyes. _**"Your…project? What do you mean?"**_ Then he heard the assembled crowd give a collective astonished gasp, and he turned his gaze back to the arena where the Tevinter champion had just entered and it was all he could do to suppress his own gasp.

The Tevinter champion was an unnaturally huge man, so tall the tallest of other men could barely reach up to his chest and nearly as wide. His limbs were unnaturally huge as well, with oversized musculature making them the size of small trees. Despite his huge size he was clearly able to move quickly, with his movements showing the grace and agility of a lifelong fighter. He was dressed in full plate armor made of shining steel that seemed to conceal his massive form only barely. Runes glowing with blue fire adorned the edges of the plates of his armor and silver reliefs of ancient battles decorated every remaining free inch of it. A Tevinter style helm fashioned in the same manner concealed his face. Over his armor he was wearing a white tabard bearing the sigil of the Imperium on its surface. As his weapons he had a Tevinter style long sword in one hand and a Dothraki arakh in the other. As he walked with surety in his steps the other fighters and even the announcer took a wary step away from him, eyeing him with concern on their faces.

"_**Gods have mercy, where did you find that beast!?"**_ The King of Meereen exclaimed.

"_**I made him."**_ Tiraen deadpanned with a shrug. _**"Oh, not all the way you understand, I didn't birth the bastard. I just made some… alterations." **_She continued after noting the shocked expression of her host. Her explanation did not seem to set the king's mind at ease in the slightest:

"_**Alterations? What kind of alterations?" **_

"_**There were many processes, most of them rather complex and difficult to explain, not to mention things you honestly do not want to know the specifics of. Suffice it to say that he has been considerably improved from his original capabilities. The strength of three men, the endurance of five, and most of all he is completely mine, incapable of disloyal thoughts. Not to boast but I am quite proud of Pet, he is one of my finest creations."**_

"_**Pet?" **_The King queried.

Tiraen shrugged again "_**That's what I call him, because it amuses me to do so, because that is all he is now, a loyal dog. It's not the name he was born with though."**_

"_**Then what is his name? Who is he? Is he even human?" **_The king asked, his curiosity still rising.

"_**He's human alright. Well, mostly, there are a few things that… but that's not important. As to who he is, you remember the Battle of the Shattered Mind about a year ago?" **_The Tevinter woman replied.

The King nodded, realization slowly creeping across his features.

"_**And you remember that a Khal was captured**__**in that battle, subdued by our magic? Well, I was the one who did it." **_Tiraen continued explaining.

"_**So that is…" **_The King stammered.

"_**That it is him, yes." **_Tiraen finished his sentence for him.

"_**He does not even look like any Dothraki I have ever seen." **_King Morzol said, amazement in his voice

"_**Of course not!" **_Tiraen scoffed, as if insulted by the notion. **"**_**He is a Champion of Tevinter now and he will look the part, I will not have him dressed like one of the horse–savages."**_

In the arena the contestants looked ready to begin. The King of Meereen nodded to her, and without hesitation she clapped her hands to begin the match. And so the fight began, the Champions of Tevinter and Meereen as a team facing their Westerosi and Dothraki opponents. Just like the king had promised, the fighters were remarkably skilled and the fight went on for a long time. As the fight raged on, king Morzol spoke up yet again:

"_**I must say, I would never have expected you to have a creature like that. I was under the impression that you disapproved of slave soldiers." **_

"_**I do." **_she replied_** "And while I am aware that the people of my country sometimes bulk out our armies with expendable slave soldiers, as do yours, I have never considered this a wise practice. I think it is a foolish risk to empower something with the ability to kill when you can never be absolutely certain of their loyalties or your ability to control them. Take the late Magister Danarius for instance. He tried to create a potent slave soldier for himself, using some kind of ritual involving lyrium marks inscribed on the skin. Of course that inevitably backfires and he ends up dead along with his apprentice and who knows how many of his soldiers. The last I heard the filthy slave is here in Essos, interfering with our operations at every opportunity. This must sound rather familiar to you, what with the Dragon Queen stealing the unsullied of Astapor and turning them against the rest of you. Pet, however, is not the same thing."**_

"_**Is he not? He seems to be the same thing to me." **_The King replied, frowning_._

"_**So it might seem, yes. However Pet is different, because when I took his mind, I made sure to take away his free will as well. Without my guidance and my magic to sustain him he has only minor capabilities to independent thought, mostly focused on combat capabilities and basic ability to take care of himself. In short he has the same mental capabilities of your average fish." **_Tiraen answered with a smirk.

She was about to continue her explanation but just then a sound of commotion from the crowd caught her attention. The Meereenese champion had just died, overreaching with his spear and getting his throat cut open by the warrior dressed as a westerosi, to the booing and shouts of anger from the crowd. Now facing only the champion of Tevinter, his two opponents circled him cautiously, trying to divide his attention between them. Pet remained calm, keeping his weapons between himself and his opponents, adjusting his position to keep the both of them within his line of sight. The knight moved up first. Pet blocked his blow and swept him off his feet and the knight landed on his back with a resounding crash. Pet then turned to his Dothraki opponent. He blocked his opponents attack with one blade and swept down with the other one, promptly slicing off both his hands at the wrist. His opponent's screams were cut short as pet rammed his longsword through his chest, puncturing his heart. Pet pulled his blade free and let his enemy tumble onto the sand. Pet turned towards his remaining opponent, who was now back on his feet. The said knight lunged forward, going for a stab. Pet saw the attack coming and caught the blade of his enemy with both of his. With a resounding crack the blade of the knight came apart. The knight stared at the broken stump of his sword for just a moment, just before Pet lunged forward and promptly beheaded him.

With a wide grin on her face, Tiraen stood up clapping and cheering: "Well done Pet! Glorious!" She shouted, this time in her native Tevene. Taking their cue from the Tevinter woman, the crowd also erupted in cheers. Pet turned to face Tiraen, bowing to her, then turning around and leaving the arena without saying a word.

"_**It seems that your Maker has favored the arm of your champion today."**_ The King commented sourly, upset that the champion he had chosen had been felled. He was then surprised to hear his guest scoff. "_**You… don't follow the Maker?"**__ He asked. _It was a rare thing in the extreme to find a thedosian human who didn't worship the god of the Chant of Light, even among tevinters.

Tiaren paused, taking a moment to consider her words before answering_: "__**No, I keep… another God."**_

"_**Which is…?" **_The king enquired.

"_**His name is only to be known by his faithful." **_Tiraen answered. _**"Not for his sake you understand, but for the safety of those that follow his will. Our faith has enemies, and we do not wish to draw their attention. One day though all the people of the world will know his name and his will. Some of us are simply privileged to serve the true god beforehand and secure his favor.**__" _She then continued.

"_**A true god?" **_The king mused, sounding unconvinced. _**"I have heard of many gods and faiths in my lifetime, and the one thing they all have in common is that they all proclaim themselves the true faith."**_

Tiraen smirked. **"**_**And how many of those faiths can say they have seen the face of their god with their own eyes and heard his words with their own ears? I have. How many can claim that their parents waged war at their god's side as I can?" **_

The king of Meereen gave her a long, curious look. **"**_**You make such bold claims, ambassador. What would it take to get me to know your god and judge your claims for myself?" **_He asked_._

"_**It would take that you would convince me that you would not betray our confidence, that you are sufficiently loyal to our cause, that of the Imperium. Prove yourself worthy, and you might know the name of my god. Until then I will keep my silence in this matter." **_Tiraen replied.

King Morzol gave a forced smile, realizing that the conversation was not going to go any further today, and turned his attention back to the arena. _**"Well, whoever your god is, I hope he gives us his favor in the wars to come, especially the war we have planned against the westerosi." **_He said. _**"That is, if we ever get around to start that particular war." **_He added pointedly.

"_**Patience." **_Tiraen said sharply, masking her irritation. _**"The invasion you speak of will come. Your people will have their vengeance on the Dragon Queen."**_

"_**So you continue to insist. Yet I have not seen significant progress. Words mean nothing if action does not follow." **_Morzol said in accusation.

Tiraen regarded the King of Meereen coolly for several moments before speaking: _"__**Has the Imperium not kept its word on every promise we have made thus far? Have we not been most generous towards you in our trading with you? The wealth of the cities allied with us has expanded tenfold since our arrival. And when your enemies came to inflict you harm, did we not take the time to train your defenders? Did we not arm them with our steel? Did we not do battle at their side, keeping faith as trusted friends and allies?" **_

"_**Certainly, but…"**_the King began to say.

"_**The Imperium shall be at the head of any assault we make against the Twin Kingdoms." **_Tiraen interrupted. _**"No other power in Essos has the strength or the will to attempt such. No other power can unite the rest of you for this war. You know this as well as any. And so it shall be the Imperium's fleets and armies that will conquer those lands, our spells that will lay them low, our soldiers first and foremost who will fight and die to see this done. All we ask of you in return is that when the time comes you stand by us and do your part as we direct you to." **_She said with a stern voice._**"I ask you to trust the Imperium, as you have done before. Trust us to keep our promise in the fullness of time, and give you the war and victory we both wish to have." **_She added with a more soft tone.

"_**As you say." **_The king relented after a pause to consider if it was truly wise to challenge his guest. _**"But surely any preparations could be for naught if our enemies choose to wield their dragon against us. I trust you have taken this problem into consideration?"**_

"_**Indeed." **_Tiraen agreed. **"**_**That problem is one of the primary reasons we have held back on our invasion. Once we have a reliable answer, we will have everything we need to succeed."**_

"_**Can we be certain that such a solution even exists?" **_The king asked.

"_**There are always ways." **_Tiraen said with confidence. **"**_**Besides, dragons aren't completely invincible. There are records of the beasts being slain, both here and in Thedas. We simply need something that will allow us to do so without wasting an inordinate amount of our military assets in the attempt. Something suited for general application, so we don't have to rely on heroes of legend to win our battles." **_

It was then that Selia, who a moment ago had been conversing with one of Tiraen's soldiers, placed a hand on her owner's shoulder, leaning closer to speak quietly into her ear: "Mistress, your soldiers bid me tell you that Magister Cato has arrived and requests your presence at your earliest convenience. He awaits you at your residence."

Tiraen smiled. "Good. Have word sent that I will meet with him as soon as the day's responsibilities permit me to do so. Until then, return to the mansion and see to it that all of Magister Cato's needs are attended to."

"Of course mistress, at once." Selia said before leaving, one of Tiraen's soldiers in tow.

"_**What was that you spoke of?" **_The King asked, as he didn't know the language she and Selia had conversed in.

Tiraen turned back to the King: **"**_**Your Majesty, I am pleased to tell you that a dear friend and colleague of mine, Magister Cato Argos, has arrived in the city. He is a very important man, so I strongly recommend you offer him an audience, as a courtesy. I think tomorrow evening would be appropriate, so he has time to settle in." **_

The king nodded, already pondering how to rearrange his schedule to accommodate this audience. It would not do to refuse a Tevinter after all.

* * *

**Okay, I may have gone a little overboard with the character description here but what the hell. It doesn't happen all that often, and this one is rather important, not to mention someone who ended up coming something of a favorite of mine. I had a very specific image of her and I wanted to translate that to writing.**


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6****; ****Many meetings;**

**Characters of the Chapter**

**Bazyl Joubert, **Orlesian ambassador to the South Kingdom of the Twin Kingdoms

**Daenerys Targaryen, **The Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains, Queen of the of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men of the South, Queen of the South Kingdom of the Twin kingdoms and Protector of the Realm

**Derek Cobbler, **Kirkwall ambassador to the South Kingdom of the Twin Kingdoms

**Gendry Baratheon, **Lord of Storm's End, Master of Laws on the Small Council of Queen Daenerys

**Manfrey Martell, **Prince of Dorne,Master of Coin on the Small Council of Queen Daenerys

**Tyrion Lannister, **Hand of the Queen to Queen Daenerys

"What I'm trying to understand is how the Orlesians managed to do this without us or anyone getting wind of it? How does one hide a giant invasion army?" Daenerys asked, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Her small council had been in session for hours now, reviewing the events that had occurred and working out everything the needed to do now. By now they had received the second raven from Eastwatch by the Sea, and knew they were dealing with a full scale invasion. Gendry was there as Daenerys's Master of Law, as was the Master of Coin, Manfrey Martell. Grey Worm had already gone to see to it that the Royal Army was mobilizing and as soon as their meeting was concluded messages would be sent to summon every noble house in the South to war. After much consideration she had decided to call on the Upstart houses as well. Although she didn't fully trust most of those self-appointed lords and ladies, her need for soldiers was pressing, and they had them. Westeros was their home as well, so by all reason they had a vested interest in protecting it.

No doubt Jon had sent messages invoking their mutual defense treaties in response to this invasion, but that was a formality. From the moment the Orlesians had attacked the necessary response had been clear to her. There was no need for Jon to ask for help she gave willingly, much less wait for his request to reach her before beginning her preparations.

"Through a gradual process it would seem." Tyrion answered her question. "The Orlesians have been slowly increasing the size of their garrisons in the Corridor. Large portions of those garrisons were in fact assets of the army we now face. We did not pay attention because the Corridor is already recognized worldwide as a location of significant strategic worth, so the Orlesians concentrating troops there to protect it did not seem unusual. Additionally our own focus was at home and in Essos."

"And probably this all was helped along by the fact that the Orlesians had already blinded our information gathering well beforehand." Daenerys commented.

"Exactly so." Tyrion confirmed. "As to why no other nation chose to alert us to the danger, I think it entirely likely that they made the same assumption we did. And even if they had realized the Orlesians were building an offensive force they would have assumed that they were building it to use against Tevinter. Based on political relations they would seem the more logical target. Furthermore, what is there to gain for any of the foreign powers? If they had warned us they would have risked this army turning around and attacking them instead."

"If these forces came from the Corridor forts, do you think there is a chance for us to use that to estimate the enemy numbers?" She said

"I believe so. It will take some time longer, but I will get an answer for us. So long as nothing unexpected happens I expect I can get information on troop composition as well." Tyrion said.

"Very good. Double time this if you could. The sooner we know what we are up against them the sooner we know what we must do."

"Aye." Tyrion said. "In the meantime we will have plenty to do mobilizing the army and gathering our allies. Grey Worm tells me that the Royal Army is progressing well in its preparations, and I expect to hear from the North and our Lords Paramount very soon. Grey Worm and I have both agreed that for the time being we should assemble two smaller armies rather than a single large one."

"Why?" The Queen asked.

"The snag lies with our fleet, your grace." Tyrion explained. "Currently much of our navy is scattered all over the place on anti-piracy assignments, including our Master of ships. Now, we have sent word to every port along our coast. As our ships return from their missions we will bring them up to speed, but it will take some time. There exists a larger garrison at the Iron Islands, but they too have to sail all the way around Westeros to engage the Orlesians. So until our fleet arrives the Orlesians can strike anywhere along the eastern coast largely unimpeded, and we have no way of knowing where they might make landfall."

"So we need to wait and see where the Orlesians intend to begin their invasion." Daenerys guessed.

"Precisely. Two smaller armies are more mobile than a single large one, which means they can better respond to the movements of the enemy fleet. Once we know where the hammer will fall we will combine our forces and move against the Empire." Tyrion said.

"But are there no other fleets for us to make use of besides the Ironborn?" Gendry asked.

"Some. But there are complications with them also." Tyrion agreed. "House Redwyne will provide additional ships, but they have the same problem as the Ironborn. And in the North no doubt the Manderlys will set sail with their fleet, but I don't think we can rely on them to take on the entire Orlesian navy all on their own."

"I would suggest hiring pirate crews to fight for us, but I don't think the crown's finances could handle the cost of paying them. And even the promise of plunder and rewards might not be enough to convince them to take on purpose built warships." Said Manfrey Martell, who until that moment had been silent.

"I will have what ships there are in the Stormlands readied. But we can't defeat the Orlesian fleet by ourselves either. We will have to wait for these other fleets to gather so we can join forces." Gendry said.

"We have more than just ships to use against the Orlesians, though." The Queen said.

Tyrion's face darkened somewhat. "I know what your instincts are telling you to do, but in this instance it is my duty to advice you against following them."

"Once again, I note." Daenerys said dryly.

"Yes, but this time I have even more reasons to do so than before." Tyrion returned.

The Queen raised an eyebrow, waiting for Tyrion to explain his reasoning.

"The Thedosians represent an enemy unlike any we have faced before, perhaps different than any enemy in the history of dragons. Their use of magic is what I mean, of course. The only comparable instance I can think of is the Valyrian campaign against the Rhoynish peoples, and even that is stretching the definition if you ask me." Tyrion said.

"There was also the case of the Night King…" Daenerys added, shuddering slightly as her mind was drawn to days of the past.

Tyrion nodded before continuing. "Yes. In either of those instances there have been results of dragons being killed or seriously injured. I am concerned that these Thedosians might manage the same feat. If they do then we will have no more dragons, and we will be in serious trouble. And if you were to die with him it would be a disaster too terrible to contemplate."

"Surely their mages are not stronger than a dragon?" Daenerys said, sounding dubious.

"One mage, perhaps not. But I would bet good money that the Orlesians will be bringing many with them, and if allowed to concentrate their efforts there is no telling what they might be able to do. Now, I'm not saying not to use of Drogon at all, but rather that we use him together with our other forces so they can support one another, and help to ensure that the enemy mages cannot focus their attention against one or the other." Tyrion replied.

"I would agree." Manfrey said. "That tactic has served us well in the past, and it is the safest course."

"I as well you Grace. Until we get our bearings with the Orlesians it's too great a risk for you to face them alone." Gendry said.

Daenerys did not reply at once, instead considered what had been said.

"Your Grace… the Orlesians would not have come here if they did not think they could win." Tyrion said. "Until we are confident they were wrong, we should practice a degree of caution. Otherwise we may put the dragon in danger, to say nothing of you."

Daenerys sighed. "There are days when I hate you being so reasonable. Particularly when you are all doing it at the same time. But the point you make is a good one, so I will put it into consideration."

"So, assuming that Grey Worm and I lead the first army, who did you intend to give the command of the second?" She asked next.

"I took the liberty of sending word to my brother." Tyrion replied.

"Acceptable." Daenerys said. Nodding and turning to Manfrey she said: "There is no question that this war comes at a bad time, threatening to swallow up money we don't have to spare. But what I need to know now is can we take it? Can our coffers survive this?"

"Perhaps, but only barely. We might need additional loans from the Iron bank to get breathing room to fight this war effectively and avoid serious issues later on." Manfrey replied.

"More debt? As if we did not have enough of that already. And we were just starting to get our heads above water too." Daenerys sighed bitterly.

"Will the Iron Bank provide these loans? They have already expressed concerns about our capacity for repayment." She asked.

"Well, if the Orlesians conquer Westeros no doubt they will renounce all responsibilities towards the crowns debts, in which case the Iron Bank will lose all the investments they have poured into Westeros over the years. So I am confident that they will support us more or less unconditionally." Manfrey replied.

"If wish I had your optimism on the subject." The Queen said. "Very well. Do what you have to do, but take care not to overcommit us. My kingdom must have a future even after we have defeated the Empire. If there is any way you could do this without resorting to debt money I would prefer it, but if it can't be helped, do it." She commanded.

"Once the time comes, I will leave with the army to war. Gendry, I want you to return to the Stormlands and prepare your people for war. Prince Manfrey, I will need you in King's Landing to manage the Crown's finances, but send messages calling your people to arms as well. Assemble your hosts quickly and rally with my army as soon as you're able. Tyrion, you will remain here, and manage the kingdom's affairs in my absence." She told them.

"I won't be coming with you? Are you certain?" Tyrion asked, clearly surprised.

"Yes. This is where you can do the most good. Continue to train reinforcements for us and ensure that the wheels of our industry continue to turn." She said.

Tyrion nodded his understanding.

"I will also need you to maintain diplomatic contact with the Orlesians. You are my Hand and know the Orlesian ambassador personally. You're the best I have to maintain talks with him." Daenerys added.

"I will be meeting the Orlesian ambassador later today, in front of the court, where I will have him justify the actions of his nation. I want you all there, making your observations. We will compare notes once we are done." She told them.

Daenerys took a pause before continuing, giving the members of the small council attending a firm look. "I did not fight all those years to secure this throne to lose it to foreign conquerors now. This invasion will be defeated. No other outcome is acceptable. You are dismissed."

The people gathered around the table stood up and left. Tyrion, sensing that the Queen still had something to say to him, stayed put. Daenerys closed her eyes and took a deep breath, suddenly looking exhausted. "Dammit Tyrion, I really had hoped to be done with this. Done with war. Perhaps that was naïve of me, but after so many people had died… so many that I lost… how could I not hope?" She said tiredly.

"Well, eight years is not such a bad record in the histories of Westeros actually. I believe we both knew this would not last forever. The invader is not the one we expected, but we knew to expect something like this one day." Tyrion tried to console her.

"I suppose that is true. Still, I wish we could have had more time. I'm not fully convinced we are ready for this. I prefer to pick my fights myself, and this is definitely not a war I wanted to have." She said. "Meanwhile the enemies I actually **want **to fight sit on the wrong continent like gargoyles, waiting for who knows what and everything goes mad around them. This to me is an extremely vexing combination." She added bitterly.

"Tevinter and their ambitions are beyond us for the time being, particularly now." He replied.

"I know that. I also know that sooner or later that must change, before they get a chance to attack us on their terms. This war will leave us that much weaker, pushing that much further away the point where we can consider ourselves ready." She said. "Damn the Emperor and his people for forcing this on me! Damn them all!" She erupted.

Daenerys took several deep breaths to collect herself. "Your brother, do you think he will answer the summons? We have great need for a general of his ability, but he has not exactly been active in the affairs of the realm lately." She asked, changing the subject.

"Of that at least I'm confident." Tyrion said. "My brother may be known as the hermit lion of Casterly Rock, but besides Ser Brienne his honor is one of the few things he has left to live for. Preserving that honor will compel him to do his duty."

Daenerys chuckled. "A man once said to be devoid of honor now cannot go on without it. Ironic." She said which caused Tyrion to chuckle as well.

"Come. The Kirkwall ambassador will be waiting for us." She said then, standing up. Tyrion stood up as well and followed her out of the Small Council chamber.

* * *

"I thank you for meeting with us on such short notice, particularly since the topic at hand is not the one you asked for." Daenerys said to Derek Cobbler, ambassador of Kirkwall, as she and him and Tyrion walked through the gardens in the Red Keep.

"Given what is going on I understand perfectly well. Trade negotiations can hardly be expected to be foremost on your mind right now." He answered, giving a slight nod of his head.

"I gather that to mean that you already know why I wanted to see you?" She asked.

"Only rumors currently. Something about an Orlesian invasion? You asking me here seems to confirm those rumors." He said. "So, what is it that I can do for you, your Grace?" He asked.

"Insight for a start. I was hoping you could help me understand the Orlesian motivations for launching this attack." She said.

"Persistent rumors suggest that the Orlesians are trying to call this an exalted march as their official reason. I do not know if the Divine has authorized such a thing, but it certainly does not seem like her. I rather suspect that it is no more than a convenient excuse, a way to make this war more popular amongst Orlesians and the rest of Thedas." he said.

"Well if that is not their true reason, then what is?"" Tyrion asked.

"For the Emperor I believe this is all about prestige." The Kirkwall ambassador replied. "He already gained popularity with the Corridor along with a strong economy, and with his openhanded patronage of the Orlesian army and navy he certainly has the support of the military. If he can now go on to claim Westeros, it will be the crown jewel of his reign. He will go down in history as one of the greatest Emperors Orlais has ever had, as one who more than tripled the size of the Orlesian territories and returned the Empire to its expansion years."

"So the Emperor decided that we were a prime candidate for his expansionism?" The Queen asked.

"Quite." The ambassador said. "Ferelden will not do for him, since the last invasion resulted in a protracted rebellion and eventual embarrassing expulsion of the occupiers, complete with a loss of territories to the Nevarrans who took advantage of the Orlesian distraction. Nevarrans on the other hand might be able to outfight him, or at least the cost of victory would be higher than he wants to pay. But it seems that he calculates that the Twin Kingdoms will not be able to resist him."

"While I personally applaud your ability maintain peace in the face adversity, to others your lack of response to the Inquisition and the upstart houses may have come across as an indicator of weakness. It is far too easy to confuse will not with cannot after all." He explained when Tyrion and Daenerys gave him questioning looks.

"Then we have to prove that to be a false assumption." Daenerys said.

"That is indeed what you must do." Derek said. "Sadly the Emperor is not the only one whose ambitions you have to contend with. Marquis Briala is as much a factor in this as he is. Some of the Emperor's more pro-elven rulings have caused tensions among the Orlesian nobility, so she hopes this war will serve as a distraction from domestic issues. Furthermore she likely believes that this war will cause vacancies among the nobility in Westeros, which she can then proceed to fill with elves and elven sympathizers. I have heard there might be a few scouting companies comprised of elves in the Orlesian invasion army, and I think it likely she intends to use their military service as the justification to elevate them."

"And why does she want to establish an elven nobility here, when there are so few elves in my country?" Daenerys asked.

"Ensuring continuity. She is the first elven noble of Orlais, but she does not wish to be the last. Attempts to install an elven nobility in Orlais would cause too much of an uproar. But if she does so here? Most old noble houses would probably be relieved they weren't kicked to a backwater position far from the halls of Imperial power." He said.

"I'm sorry… backwater?" The Queen asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, only from the perspective of the Orlesian nobility. Your country is quite far away from Orlais, after all." he said in apology.

"And I suppose from their perspective our lifestyle is not all that glamorous." Tyrion quipped. "But tell me, how is it that a mere advisor can have as much say in politics as you claim the Marquis has?" He asked then.

Derek chuckled "An odd question for the Hand of the Queen to ask. But the truth of the matter is that the relationship between the Emperor and his chief advisor is touch more complicated than officially stated. I don't have all the details, but I have heard it said that she has knowledge of some dirty secrets regarding to his ascent to the throne. Suffice it to say she could have stopped this invasion had she cared to. She did not, and that makes her as much your enemy as the Emperor."

"And the trend of overcomplicated Orlesian politics continues." Tyrion commented dryly.

"Well, I have heard it said that complicating matters is the Orlesian national pastime, so I guess it is only natural that they have a government that reflects this." The Kirkwall ambassador said.

"So now these two conspirators from the land of frustrating politics push this outrageous invasion plan on us, even as the Tevinter Imperium waits its turn to pounce? Does the Emperor not care that by attacking us he strengthens his greatest rival?" Daenerys asked, barely contained anger in her voice.

"On the contrary, I am certain that the Emperor is aware of the Tevinter threat and has included that in his considerations." Derek replied. "Once Westeros is taken, he can flood these lands with as many troops as he wishes, build whatever fortifications he judges necessary and levy taxes on the people of Westeros to pay for all of it. He could have formed an alliance with you, but that would have given him all the risks with no benefits. Furthermore I believe he calculates that the threat of Tevinter means you and King Jon will not fight to the bitter end and risk leaving yourselves vulnerable to a worse invader. He thinks that when pressed you would rather lose to Orlais than Tevinter."

"I have no intention of losing to either nation. And let no one forget that." She countered sharply.

"Then it seems a great task lies before you. Not only must you win this war, but you must win cleanly enough that no one else will be emboldened to strike at you." He said.

"Such a task will be much easier with allies on our side." Daenerys said. "You and your city have been a friend to this kingdom, so I would ask this now: Will Kirkwall join us in our efforts?"

"Ah. I would gladly offer our aid to you but Viscount Tethras has… forbidden me." The ambassador said reluctantly.

"Forbidden you?" She repeated, surprised.

"I'm certain he too would wish to help you. He hates bullies after all, even ones that come in the form of nations. But as he is in charge of Kirkwall he must consider the city's interests first. As such he has given me strict instructions not to commit Kirkwall to any military alliance without his permission. I can relay your request to him, but I already know his response. If he aids you now he risks drawing the ire of Orlais. And then we would be one city against an entire Empire." Derek explained.

"It… it is an understandable decision, but also an unfortunate one." The Queen said, clearly disappointed.

"Honestly speaking, unless we could create a coalition of marcher cities to fight with you, our support would mean little. There are only three events I can think of that can bring such a gathering: A Blight, a foreign invasion or one of the marcher cities making an attempt at forming a hegemony. Your request for support is none of the three, but seems likely to invite one of them." He said.

"Very well, if the Free Marches will not do for us, can you provide insight as to which Thedosian nations might be more amenable?" She asked.

"I'm afraid your odds with other nations are not much better either." Derek said. "Queen Anora has spent almost two decades working to ensure that the Orlesians will never again invade Ferelden. She is not going to throw all that away just for you. Nevarrans are likely your best bet. If you phrase yourself correctly King Markus might permit volunteers to journey to your aid, and indirectly they force Orlesians to leave some of their troops home to defend their own territories. Even so I doubt the King will take any action that is not deniable. The Anderfels do not have a navy, so they cannot aid you even if they could be convinced. Antiva and Rivain are far away and smaller powers, with the Antivans not even possessing an army, and they have naught to gain from supporting you. Orzammar never takes sides in surface conflicts outside of the Blights, particularly with the current king in charge." He told them, the face of the Queen and her Hand becoming increasingly grim as he tallied on.

"I assume Tevinter is out of the question in your considerations?" The Ambassador asked then.

"Is that even a serious question?" Daenerys asked dryly.

"I'm certain that the lords of the Magisterium would give a similar response." Derek said.

"I note that you did not include the Qunari in your list." Tyrion said.

"Or the Inquisition." The Queen added. "Because of their role as peacekeepers logically they would want to stop this war, and according to the information I have they too were attacked."

"The Qunari don't do alliances. Ever." Derek countered. "The last time they tried anything of the sort the business ended up with a wrecked dreadnaught and one of their best agents defecting to the Inquisition. That soured any desires they might have had in working with others. Not that they had much to begin with. To them the Twin Kingdoms is just another Bas nation they must overcome in their project to build a perfect world."

"Bas?" Tyrion asked.

"Qunari word for non-Qunari." Derek explained.

"And the Inquisition is too tied up with Orlais to attack them directly." He continued. They were allies during the Breach War. The Empire and the Inquisition have had a close co-operation ever since, with the Empire providing people, supplies and funds, as well as allowing the Inquisition to operate in various camps and fortresses inside their territory without interference. On the upside, if what you said about the attack is true, it is unlikely they will side with the Orlesians either. I would be stunned if they did nothing is response to the Orlesian behavior, but war won't be their first option, and whatever they do they won't be taking exclusively your side."

"So that is it then?" Daenerys asked.

"Unfortunately, yes. All your potential allies are either too far away, too afraid of Orlais, or they plain do not like you." The ambassador confirmed.

"In the face of blatant aggression that, for all they know, might be turned against them next; these great nations and organizations we have heard so much about will do… nothing?" She said, her tone accusing.

"Allow me to put it this way: If, say, Ferelden was under attack right now and Queen Anora asked for your aid, would you give it, even though there exists no treaty to compel you? Would you send your people to kill and die for a people you do not know, fighting in a faraway land that will never belong to you? Would you do that, knowing that after the war you would be asked to leave, with little besides gratitude to show for all your work?" Derek answered.

Daenerys opened her mouth to respond. She wanted to say that she would, but almost at once she knew that it was not true. Under the conditions Derek had named, she would have no cause to commit troops to a war between foreigners, at least nothing she could give to her people as a justification. And with nothing to gain, such a notion would have sounded unappealing to her personally. So after some consideration she shook her head.

"And there you have it. There is no treaty to tell them that they must, and no historic friendship that might convince them to do so anyway." Derek said.

"Then I guess we must stand alone." The Queen said in contemplation. "In any event I thank you for your advice. And you honesty. It is unfortunate that your orders forbid you from giving more aid, but I understand your point of view. Were I in the Viscount's position, I might well have given the same command."

"That is very generous of you to say." Derek said with a nod. "I also regret that I'm unable to offer more. My position as ambassador denies much, but I have many means that do not fall within the purview of that role. If any of those means can assist you, they are at your disposal, I give you my word on that."

"Thank you. It's good to see that our kingdom is not completely devoid of friends, no matter how informally they are forced to act." She said.

Derek nodded again. "In my opinion the Orlesian invasion is a blatant injustice. Knowing that, a person of principle would side with you. I'd like to consider myself one. More than you know may be wishing to follow suite, even though they can do no more than condemnation."

"You will be meeting with the Orlesian ambassador later today?" He asked.

"Yes, I have asked him to appear before the court and explain the actions of his nation." She said. "I expect that a formal declaration of war will follow."

"I expect the same. Well, if there is nothing more, then I guess I shall see you in the throne room later on. Interesting times I suppose…" The ambassador said.

"Perhaps a little too interesting." Tyrion commented.

"Your Grace, Lord Tyrion." Derek said in farewell before bowing and taking his leave.

* * *

It was sometime later that Daenerys was sitting on the Iron Throne, waiting for the ambassador to arrive. Knowing that it was the tactic of some people to make others wait to impress their importance, she had allowed the Orlesian ambassador no such chance, only emerging from her rooms when she had been informed that the ambassador was on his way and had entered the grounds of the Red Keep. Her guards would ensure that the ambassador did not tarry, politely of course.

The throne room was full of nobles, lining the edges of the hall. Most were from Westeros, but a few ambassadors from other countries and their staff were also present among the crowd. In the center there was a cleared space, lined with her unsullied, and Her Queensguard were arranged in front of the steps leading up to the throne. It was there that the ambassador would soon stand to answer for the actions of his people. Tyrion and the rest of the present members of her small council were present, standing near the throne, ready to offer advice.

Daenerys found herself feeling restless, her eyes scanning the room constantly, her finger tapping her arm. She tried not to fidget, knowing how easy it was to cut oneself on the Iron Throne. The throne was not one of the best ideas of her ancestors, even if it did make some kind of symbolic sense.

Her mind was constantly swimming with thoughts of plans yet to be discussed, of the thousand and one things that still needed to be made ready. She rather suspected that many stressful days and sleepless nights were on the horizon before everything was said and done. In some ways she still felt like everything that had happened was some nightmare she would soon awaken from.

She saw the doors of the throne room open and the Orlesian Ambassador walk in. He was dressed in flamboyant clothes typical of Orlesian nobility, primarily yellow in color. On his head there was a tricorn decorated with red feathers. His face was covered with a mask resembling a face, of the same color as his clothes. The cane he had made a rhythmic tapping sound as the ambassador calmly walked forward. On his other hand Daenerys spied a scroll. He was accompanied by an entourage of his personal guards in dark green greatcoats, helms and masks of silvery steel, longswords at their hips.

"Twelve… well he's certainly nervous…" Daenerys thought, having just counted the number of the ambassador's guards. Usually the Ambassador was content to move about with just one or two guards protecting his person.

The ambassador stopped a respectful distance from her Queensguard. "You sent for me, Your Grace?" He greeted her, his tone polite despite everything.

"Indeed. Ambassador, I have received clear reports that I find most disturbing. Reports that state that the Orlesian Empire, without warning or provocation, launched an attack against Eastwatch by the Sea, bombarding the castle and destroying the Night's Watch ships that lay in anchor there, killing many loyal defenders of the realm in the process. Reports that even now a fleet of hundreds of warships strong has entered through the Corridor to the waters adjacent to the Twin Kingdoms. What your nation has done is not in question, only your motives. As the representative of Orlais, you have been called upon to answer for these acts." She said, directing her words to the entire court.

"I have heard your summons, and I have arrived with an answer in hand." The Ambassador said, lifting the scroll he had brought. He opened the said scroll and began to read:

"From Emperor Gaspard of Orlais to the rulers of the Twin Kingdoms. It has been brought to the attention of the Empire that there have been repeated assaults on the faithful of the Maker and members of his institution. Despite repeated and justified calls for aid, The Twin Kingdoms have failed to act decisively to protect the faithful from rampant aggression. With the lives of the faithful in imminent danger, the sacred authority of the Chantry challenged by opposing faiths, and the resident monarchies unwilling to take the appropriate steps, the Empire feels that there is no choice but to declare an Exalted March against the Twin Kingdoms. A state of war is therefore declared to exist between our nations. This state of war shall persist until the Orlesian Empire, at its own discretion and consideration, is satisfied that the Maker's faithful are safe and that the Twin Kingdoms are governed by those whom the Empire feels are willing and able to maintain the aforementioned state of security, as well as excellent post-war relations with the Empire."

Shocked gasps echoed in the hall before the nobles gathered erupted into angry shouts, more than one calling for the ambassador's head. The surge of angry voices made the Unsullied and Queensguard tense, while the hands of the Orlesian guards went to the hilts of their swords. But fortunately no blade was drawn and eventually the Unsullied managed to restore some semblance of order.

"In light of these circumstances I wish to make it known that shall remain within the city to facilitate future negotiations and maintain diplomatic relations between us." The ambassador said after the shouting had quieted down enough that he did not need to shout.

"Of course." The Queen said. "And since you are staying in the city, the Unsullied will be given orders to install a garrison at your residence for… purposes of security. Alongside your own guards, of cource."

"Your soldiers are neither needed nor welcome." The ambassador said at once.

"Be that as it may, I will assign them regardless." Daenerys countered.

The ambassador bristled at that: "I am an ambassador of Orlais…"

"And so I am certain that you appreciate the need to have these troops installed." Tyrion interrupted him. "After all, the other option is to be expelled from the city, which, I remind you, would render you unable to perform your sworn duty to Orlais."

For several tense moments the ambassador considered his options. "Fine. You may post your guards." He finally allowed bitterly. "But I will issue a formal protest over this. It is an insult against a sovereign nation. My nation." He added.

"An insult worse than invading a sovereign nation under fraudulent excuses?" The Queen pointed out, her comment causing a chorus of laughter amongst the gathered nobles.

Fuming, the Ambassador turned sharply on his heels and strode out of the room, his guards following suite.

With the nobles concluding that the main event they had been called to attend was finished, a general buzz of conversation began in the room.

"Well, that was tense." Tyrion said to her. "Interesting bit of agency there by the way. Can't say I was expecting that."

"Yes. Sorry to spring it on you like that, but I only thought of it in the moment. You handled yourself quite well, despite the surprise." She said.

"Thank you. I'm a little curious as to why you want the Unsullied to guard him." He asked.

"Mostly I want him watched. His force of personal guards is over two hundred strong and he has other staff besides, some of which might be more dangerous than they seem. And almost certainly he will act as a spy for his nation. But now that we have his residence guarded we can keep him from doing anything stupid or dangerous to us." She explained.

"I can see why you would want to do that. I hope that is worth alienating the ambassador. He looked positively ready to erupt." Tyrion said.

Daenerys chuckled. "Indeed. Well, I guess we should go mingle. There are still plans to discuss, support to secure, all that."

"Very true. And on that front I have some good news. I talked with ambassador Derek just before this. He has offered to come along when the army leaves for war, ostensibly as an observer on behalf of Kirkwall. He believes he can advise us without violating his orders." Tyrion said.

"That's a start. Tell him that I accept his offer." The Queen said before standing up and joining the crowd.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7; Imperial Schemes**

**Characters of the Chapter**

**Cato Argos, **Magister of the Tevinter Imperium, by the authority of the Archon and the Imperial senate supreme overseer of all affairs and militaries of the Imperium in the continent of Essos

**Julius Argentus, **Magister of the Tevinter Imperium, commander of the 1st expeditionary legion of Tevinter

**Tiraen Tasvius, **Magister of the Tevinter Imperium, ambassador to Meereen, commander of the 5th expeditionary legion of Tevinter, formerly apprentice to magister Cato Argos

**Selia, **slave to Tiraen Tasvius

Descending a flight of stairs that led into the main hall of her mansion, Tiraen laid eyes on the man who had been her mentor during her years as an apprentice. She could not help but feel a pang of sorrow at the sight. Cato Argos had not been a young man even when he had been training her, and age had not treated him kindly. The last ten years in particular had aged him terribly. His hair was mostly gone save for a few snow white tufts. Flesh had melted away from his bones, pulling the skin tight over his skull and leaving the rest of his frame thin and wiry. These days he had to use his magic to move around effectively at all, particularly when he had to personally engage in combat. Despite this his mind had lost none of his sharpness, and any fool who thought him easy prey and tried to fight him would make the last mistake of their lives. Although Tiraen possessed more raw power than him any day, his experience and cunning was such that he could still often defeat her in a practice duel.

Currently he was reclining in a chair, sipping at a glass of wine that Selia had provided him. Selia was standing just near him, holding in her hands a tray that held a jug and glasses of more wine. "Mentor." Tiraen greeted him, walking to him and hugging his one-time mentor. He smiled and returned her hug.

"It's so good to see you again my lord." She said as they separated and she sat down to a chair opposite to him.

"You as well, old friend." Cato said. "How go your research projects? I heard a strange story that you unveiled some new kind of soldier in the fighting pits today?"

"Yes, Pet. Built from that Dothraki Warlord we captured. Today was his first outing. He performed quite well." Tiraen replied.

"Based on Qyburn's recovered notes I presume?" He asked.

"In part." Tiraen admitted. "But I improved on his research, and added plenty of my own things as well, magical enhancements mostly, enough to call the work my own. Qyburn did incredible work I'll admit. He actually managed to summon and bind a demon in a host without even a thimble of magic and only haphazard understanding what a demon even is. It's a damn miracle if you ask me."

"You almost sound as if you admire him." Cato commented.

"Well… perhaps I do, in my way." She admitted after a moment of hesitation. "Is it so wrong to admire someone of genuine brilliance? The things I would give for just an hour to talk with him."

"A sad thing then that he is no longer in this world." Said he. "And your efforts with the local King? Everything under control?" he asked then.

Tiraen scoffed. "With him? Nothing simpler. I don't even need my blood magic with him. He is a vain and gluttonous man. All I need do to keep him under control is to satisfy his appetites, of which he admittedly has many. Most prominently his fascination with elf women. He enjoys them greatly. Often more than one at a time, but rarely the same two ones on consecutive days, or so my informers tell me. I do my best to keep him well supplied, and to ensure that he knows that I'm the one doing so. An expensive endeavor hereabouts, but well worth it."

"I see. A most devious strategy. I commend you." He said, chuckling. "Selia is not one of the ones you gift him though, is she?"

"What? No. The king did ask about that once, but I turned him down. She is not on offer, no one who has been in my service for so long is. Besides I'm not in the habit of giving away things that are mine anyway." She said.

"I didn't think you would." He said.

"There is one issue of note with the king." Tiraen changed the subject. "He continues to hound me about the planned invasion. I have the impression he is getting just a tiny bit impatient. Truth to be told, I wish I could give him a better answer than I have been giving. I want this fight to happen as much as anyone."

"It's an admirable thing to see such enthusiasm." Cato said. "As soon as our preparations are complete you will get what you wish for. But until then we must be patient."

"Aye, this is true. That is exactly what I continue to tell the king." Tiraen agreed. "And in the meantime there are plentiful enemies here for us to deal with, starting with the Dothraki. Those who oppose us in Essos must be destroyed before any invasion can take place, otherwise we might get caught in a war on two fronts."

"Indeed. And so it can be said that our war has already begun. The horselords belong to the Queen after all, and fight in her name." He said.

Tiraen seemed surprised. "That is an interesting way to look at it. I had not thought of that."

"Now that we are discussing preparation and such, what news are there of the wider world? How for instance goes our plan to assassinate the Dragon Queen?" She asked.

"Unfortunately, there seems to have been a complication on that front. Inquisition operatives attacked our agents before we were ready to act. If any of our agents still live we have not heard of them since." He said.

"Damn." She cursed. "Is their naught we can do without the men of the Eye interfering with our work? Is there nowhere we can go without the Inquisition hounding our every step?" She seethed.

"Even they don't see all, and we have paid them back in kind. They thought to worm their way into Braavos. Our assets in the city dealt with the problem quite handily." He replied.

"Good." She said, her voice full of venom. "I look forward to the day we can do the same to their entire pathetic order."

"Calm the flames of your fury my friend. Elsewise you might find that there is naught for you to rule but ash." Her former mentor said, although he sounded more proud and amused than alarmed by her words. He knew full well her tendency to take the Imperium's rivalries personally, of making the Imperium's enemies her own.

"Of, course mentor, my apologies. It is just that of all our myriad enemies, the Inquisition is the most persistent. Far less can set fire to my blood, as you well know." She said.

"Indeed, and the Imperium has benefitted greatly from such passion." He said. "There are other news from Westeros, and this one quite alarming. It seems the Orlesians have begun an invasion of the Twin Kingdoms.

Tiraen was shocked. "The Orlesians beat us to the punch? Damn them all! But... if this is the case, can we afford to wait? Do we not risk the Empire taking our future conquest from us?"

"The thought has passed my mind as well. Naturally we will not allow anything such to happen. If it starts to look like the Empire will win this war then certainly we will move in and secure some choice pieces for ourselves. Until then we do greater favors to ourselves by waiting and letting our enemies slaughter each other. Patience, just like I said." he replied.

"Yes, patience. But now it's doubly hard." Tiraen said, thoughtful. "Are there more news?" She asked next.

"Plenty." Cato confirmed. "Our battles with the Qunari continue in the Narrow Sea and the Stepstones, gaining ground somewhere, losing it elsewhere. Further eastward, it appears that the Dothraki might be massing for another attack against us."

"I would have thought that they had had enough after the Battle of the Shattered mind." She said, somewhat surprised. "How many?"

"Many. According to reports, at least five Khals intend to unite their strength to bring the fight to us. Our spies estimate that the total force would be just under sixty thousand, give or take a few thousand, the bulk of their remaining fighters. It is not an immediate problem, but I believe it is an inevitable one. The horse-savages have not yet begun gathering, and it will take them considerable time to assemble their full strength, but once they have they will move against us with overwhelming force." he said.

"So many…. If only the Dragon Queen had brought more of the Dothraki to Westeros during her war. Perhaps more would have died and less would remain to oppose us. But I suppose even with all the ships she had acquired she could not transport so many. Nor would all of them follow her across the sea." She contemplated. "And how many legions we would have available to send against them?" She asked then.

"Two, the first and your fifth, and support units from here in Meereen." He answered.

"…That won't be enough, not nearly enough." She said after a moment of consideration.

"Aye, it won't, but we have plans." Cato said. "We will face them on ground of our choosing, where their numbers will mean less and their horses will be at a disadvantage. As for other things, that is one of the reasons I have come here, to give you a special assignment."

"I guess that means I won't be with my legion when they make their preparations. No matter, I have commanders that can oversee that work in my stead." She mused. "Where am I needed?" She asked.

"At first in Qarth. Apply your charms, bring that city to the fold."

"Why Qarth?" She asked.

"There is much for the Imperium to gain there." Cato said. "It is one of the wealthiest, if not _the _wealthiest city on the continent. The wealth and supplies they can bring to the cause would benefit our future efforts greatly. Furthermore, if they can be persuaded to cease their trade with Westeros, that will strangle our enemy's resources that much more. And Qarth sits on an important sea route connecting east to west. Having control of the city will open the path to Yi Ti and beyond, good preparation for the day when our interest turns to that direction."

"I see. Valuable gains all, but how to pursue this?" She asked.

"The Qartheen are merchants by nature. And while it is known that they have some history with the Dragon Queen and thus cause to be angry with her, their kind as a rule does not hold grudges for very long. Bad for business. And no matter what we can offer them, they can gain more by trading with both sides, so I foresee that it will be extremely hard to convince them to trade exclusively with us. As for the rest of it… they may be reluctant towards us. For a trade city they practice isolationism remarkably well, keeping foreigners at an arm's length in all matters outside of business. Most visitors see nothing of the city outside the docks. And doubtless they have realized how we have come to command other cities that have sided with us, being neither blind nor stupid. A people proud enough to call their city *the greatest city that ever was or will be* are likely loathe to surrender control to someone else." She then explained.

"Exactly so." Cato agreed. "Which is why you should speak with the warlocks instead. They have a degree of sway in the affairs of the city, and unlike the tradesmen they **do **hold grudges and for very long times at that. The visit of the Dragon Queen resulted in considerable disruption of their plans and the death of at least one of their number, so they have cause to hate her. More importantly they too are mages, which might make them amenable to meet with us, particularly if we can arrange a mutually beneficial exchange of magical learning. This will have the added benefit of gaining spells from their own magical tradition to our arsenal. So this is what I want you to do, and in the process you will coax the warlocks to apply pressure to convince the rest of Qarth to fall in line."

"The Warlocks… a useful angle to consider. I shall see what I can do with them. Since you said that Qarth is only the first place where I must go, what is the next one?" She said.

"The Valyria expedition." Cato replied.

"Oh?" She said, mildly surprised. "With the Dothraki coming, can we be sure there is time for both of these objectives?" She asked.

"I'm are confident that there will be, if you travel by ship. Your commanders can handle leading your legion in the meantime. Besides, this was insisted on by higher levels of command. They hope that you will find something there that will allow us to tilt the balance in our war with the Dothraki." He said.

"That seems like a long shot. We do not know exactly what kind of magic the Valyrians were in command of. All we do know is that magical traditions hereabouts tend to be weak, stunted things, rarely being worth more than a glance, cases like that of the Warlocks being a rare exception. There might be nothing there worth our time, or if there is I might not find it. The peninsula is large after all, and I do not know what I seek." She said.

"That is always a danger, and if this turns out to be the case we will make our preparations in conventional manner and take our chances. Even so I remain optimistic. People with weak magics could not create a cataclysmic event like the Doom. No, that takes power. The tools and learning of such potent magic wielders could be a great boon to our efforts." He said.

"They would be, I'll admit that. Perhaps I can even find the means by which they caused the Doom. If we could learn to weaponize the destruction that unmade them, learn to unleash it in a controlled manner wherever we wished…." She let the suggestion hang in the air.

"That would indeed be a magnificent contribution on your behalf. But we shall also be content with less if that if that is what you manage to bring. Anything you find should be of some value, so you cannot really fail, so long as you bring something back." He said.

"I shall make sure to do that then." She commented.

"Now that this expedition is on the horizon I am compelled to ask: How goes your work with the Veil Amulets?" He asked.

"I am satisfied with the progress I've made. I now have six amulets at the ready, and six more I believe can be completed before the time comes." She replied.

"Have you tested them?" He asked.

"Yes. I gave one to my acolytes and summoned a spirit from the fade." She said.

"And?"

"And it could not sense him. At all. The spirit was actually confused as to what I was talking about when I asked whether it could sense him. And when my acolyte moved something in the room the spirit almost panicked at how an inanimate object could move on its own without a will it could sense directing it. The only two drawbacks? One, these are very hard to make, with magic needed in the making, while at the same they are a complete antithesis of magic in general. Two, a related issue, when worn these amulets limit a mages spellcasting ability to a rather devastating degree. Even I cannot cast the simplest spell when wearing one, although I continue to be able to sense magic." She said.

"I see. Very good. Nevertheless if you don't mind I would like to repeat your experiment myself. I do not doubt your ability but I'm sure you'll agree that when dealing with unusual magic like this we should be extra careful." Cato said.

"Of course." Tiraen said with a nod. "But you will need to summon your own spirit for that. I destroyed the one I summoned as you know I always do when I stop needing a spirit's services." She added.

"Understood. Since mages cannot cast spells while wearing the amulets I believe you will need to find non-mages you can trust to take with you on the mission. I trust you have such?" he asked.

"On that field I daresay I am well supplied. Most officers in my legion are now members of our order, and through them many of the rank and file have been brought to the cause, and more every day. The rest follow my person, if not my cause at this time." She said.

"That is very good to hear. One more legion under our direct control." He said.

"That does remind me, how goes our work in the Magisterium?" She asked.

"Two more magisters and their families have been brought over to our side. Our increased control has led to new legislation being passed, which has given us better breathing room to conduct our activities. Additionally we have made progress in posting our people to command posts among homeland legions. Combined with our control of the legions here we have a large portion of the imperial military under our sway. Those not inducted to our cause know naught of these appointments naturally, and neither does the Archon. The Lucerni are the only ones that actively oppose us on the political field, and they are too much of a fringe movement to oppose us effectively, and even they are not aware who we are truly. The other, larger factions are not at this time committed for or against us, so they can be swayed when necessary." He said.

"How aware is the Archon of these developments?" Tiraen asked next.

"Well, he knows that there is a new clique within the senate, but not who we are or how many seats we truly hold, since each time we have had a motion on the senate floor we have instructed some of the loyal Magisters to vote against us. As long as we continue to procure results here in Essos I doubt he will look too closely."

"Sounds like our homeland is all but in the pocket of the deserving. If the Archon only knew how deep our control runs…" She mused.

"You had best hope he doesn't find out. That kind of discovery would be precisely the component that would lead him to denounce us and direct the rest of the Imperium to attack us." He warned.

"Perhaps the time has come for a new Archon, then? Someone more… devoted… to our cause?" She offered.

"Soon. When we can ensure that our takeover will be quick, efficient and total. Otherwise we risk a civil war that will undo all that we have accomplished." He said.

"A wise precaution to be certain. Still, the sooner this thing is accomplished, the better I will feel about it. When we have our hands on the controls we can ensure the Imperium continues to be steered on the path to greatness." She said.

"Well, if you wish more progress on that front then you will consider my next proposal. I think you should visit home after we are finished with the Dothraki. Your voice in the Magisterium would certainly speed things along, and it would do you some good personally. It would give you a chance to make some connections, establish yourself as a political figure." He said.

"My place is here." She said at once. "If the Imperium is to be restored, it will happen here, on the frontier, not on the marble floors of the Magisterium. And I have no patience listening to allegedly patriotic speeches given by old fools."

Her eyes widened in shock when she remembered who it was she was talking to. "I-I did not mean… I would never include you in… I'm so sorry…" She tried to stammer an apology.

In response Cato laughed heartily. "I am certainly old, but I'd like to think I am not a fool. But I understood your intent, and I don't disagree. Great many in the Magisterium are indeed fools, and we can count ourselves lucky enough remain to make our efforts work."

"Nevertheless I believe you should endeavor to tolerate them, at least for a time. As you inadvertently pointed out, I am an old man. It means that a day will come that you can no longer make use of my political connections. Your magics are strong, your bloodline is venerable and your accomplishments here in Essos are undeniable, but in the Magisterium you are practically a ghost. If that continues to be the case you may find that the other three points you have in your favor mean very little on their own. If they could do so I'm certain your parents would advise you to address this, for the good of your house. I would tell you to do the same. It is something you have to attend to if you intend to be my successor one day. Otherwise you will have serious difficulties when you take my place. That time is coming, perhaps sooner than you care to admit." He continued more seriously.

"Mentor, you should not say such things. You have many years in you yet, I'm sure." She said.

"You know better than that. More importantly, I know better than that. I should. I am the foremost authority on the subject after all. I feel my age more every day, and I know where that path ends. I have accepted it. When you reach that point your primary concern becomes ensuring that those that come after you are well off, so they can continue what you started. It's why I persist in this." He replied.

"And of course there is the matter of finding an apprentice. That is something that only Tevinter can provide for you." He said when Tiraen did not respond.

"I have no need of an apprentice. I have acolytes aplenty." She said dismissively.

"Acolytes are not the same thing. People of that nature are servants, fit to work for you and carry out your will. An apprentice is someone that you raise up as your equal in terms of respect and given enough time an equal in other fields as well. Your apprentice inevitably comes to have knowledge of all your work and inherit all your arcane knowledge, as has been with you as my apprentice. This is something that an acolyte will never have. As the head of your house and its sole living member you make your own choices of cource, but this is my recommendation to you, and I cannot stress the importance enough." He said.

Tiraen considered. "You make good points, and I'm not saying I will never do as you have advised. All I'm saying that I have no acute need for one at this time, and there is too much going on right now for me to spend energy thinking about this as well. When there is a sufficiently calm point in our work I will see what can or cannot be done about this. There is time yet, surely?"" She said finally.

"Fair enough, but do not take too long. Far too many tarry with such things, thinking that they will have time for it later, only to wake up one day and realize that there is no more time and their opportunity has slipped them by. I would hate to see that happen to you." Cato said.

Tiraen smiled and shook her head. "Mentor, you are relentless. Next you will be telling me to get married and produce a flock of children." She said in jest. "All for the good of house Tasvius of course." She said with an exaggerated tone.

Cato flashed a grin, showing off what teeth remained to him. "That at least seems to be something I do not need to tell you to do. It seems to me you made your choice long ago. A fine match too, a young, handsome man from a respectable family with considerable influence. All the two of you need to do is to admit your feelings for each other and two great Imperial families will be joined in happy marriage, a rare enough thing amongst the Tevinter nobility, the promised land of arranged marriages. Honestly, I am somewhat surprised you have been dancing around the subject as long as you have."

Tiraen smiled, blushing.

"Perhaps today will be the day? There will at least be an opportunity. After all, he is here now." He said.

Tiraen's eyes widened with surprise. "Julius is here?" She asked, a huge sunny smile lighting up on her face.

"Yes, he came with me to coordinate the actions of our legions." He said, nodding. "Doubtless he will wish to talk with you about that work… eventually. He is very eager to see you again. In fact, although he might not be aware of it, he has talked of little else."

"But why didn't you say anything?" She accused, although her tone remained happy.

"I did. Just now. But honestly I wanted to savor the surprise for you. …And I wanted to go over a few key matters before you became completely distracted." He said.

"Oh. Well… perhaps that was wise all things considered." She said absentmindedly. "Where…?" She asked.

"In your office." He said.

"Very well. If you will excuse me?" She said, standing up.

Cato dismissed her with a nod and she left quickly, hurrying to her office. Opening the door she found Julius there, dressed in a blue tunic, boots of brown leather and a yellow sash around his waist. His hair was short and as black as hers, his eyes were grey and his shaved face was handsome in a chiseled sort of way. He was examining some papers on her desk, but when he heard the door open he looked up and smiled when he recognized her. She ran to him, they embraced each other and he gave her a quick spin around himself on his arms. Their foreheads touched and they almost kissed, their lips hovering only inches away from each other. But their lips never met, and after a time they separated.

"Damn it, why do I always behave like this with him, freezing up at the critical moment?" She scolded herself in her mind. "I love him, and I can see that he loves me also. Yet every time we meet we're overcome with shyness so severe we can't speak our minds. And it makes no sense whatsoever. There is no need for it. We're both adults, and he wouldn't even be the first man I've ever bedded. Damn you Julius for making my head spin this badly, all for you. Damn you for making me behave like a sixteen year old virgin."

Aloud, clearing her throat, she said: "Julius. It's good to see you again. It's been awhile since the last time has it not?"

"Yeah, I think the last time was the Battle of the Shattered Mind, and that was no place to have a conversation. So about a year since we really met and talked. Far too long I would say." He replied.

"Agreed. So how have you been?" She asked.

"Good. Busy. Our cause ensures that. Fighting the Qunari for the most part. Managed to take one of their forts just before I had to leave to come here. Even so its brutal work. We lose as often as we win. I don't see the balance shifting one way or another." He said.

"Just like the situation is back home. Mmm, it's going to take a lot to break the stalemate with the Oxmen here in Essos, more than one or even two legions can manage."

"That's the truth of it. But even so we do have an advantage I would think. We have support from the mainland, and can operate from there. Meanwhile the Oxmen have no holdings here aside from the forts they have built in the stepstones, and the attitudes of their philosophy are not exactly beneficial in gaining friends." Julius commented. "But enough about those horned savages. What of you? What have you been doing lately?" He asked then.

"Diplomacy mostly, managing affairs with the local king. And work on my projects of course. Meanwhile I'm having my legion hunt for the Second Sons. And that bloody lyrium-marked slave…" She said.

"Last I heard they had started working together?" Julius commented.

"Yes, and because of that they are a greater thorn in our side than either have been on their own. He knows our methods surprisingly well and that has given the Second Sons an unexpected advantage. It is remarkably annoying." She grumbled.

"There is another rumor I heard, one that suggest you intend to on an expedition to the ruins of Valyria soon." he said.

"In this case the rumor is a true one, although I am curious as to whom told you this rumor of an event that should not be common knowledge. Cato told me I'm to depart on the mission after a visit to Qarth to secure their cooperation." She said.

"I'd like to come with you." he said.

"And I'd like to bring you, at least to Qarth, but I fear Cato won't let you come. He will need you here directing the legions." She said, taking his hands to hers. "And as for Valyria… I have learned it's very likely that mages will be at a disadvantage on this mission, either unable to cast or at risk of possession. And so I should be the only mage participating. The other spots on the mission should be reserved for non-mages. It is the wisest course. You know I'm right."

Tiraen saw that he wanted to argue, but could not find a proper counterpoint. "If you are certain." He said finally, sighing. "I just don't like this entire idea of going to Valyria. No one has returned from that place, you do understand that?" he said then, sounding concerned.

"None of them were us. None of them had our methods." She countered.

"Yeah. Maybe that will be enough." He said, though he still sounded dubious.

"Let us not think of that now." She said, breaking the uneasy silence that had descended between them. "There is much else for us to talk about, catching up to do. At some point we'll need to discuss the future actions of our legions I suppose. But that can wait until we want to have that conversation. Before that I want to show the progress I have done on some of my research projects.

Julius smiled, appearing to agree to change the subject. "Will the warrior creature you mentioned in your letter be one of these? That one really caught my attention, let me tell you." He asked.

It was Tiraen's turn to smile. "Not only is he one of them, he is the centerpiece of what I had in mind. Come, I will show him to you." She said, leading him from the room.

It was some time later, after Cato and Julius had already departed, that she found herself wandering the halls, a smile stuck on her face, hear mind irresistibly drawn back to Julius. She decided that she needed to clear her head so she would be able to compose herself. She sought out Selia.

"I would pray for a while. Inform the others that I don't wish to be disturbed for a time." She said to her when she found her.

"Mistress." Selia said in reply, bowing and leaving.

Tiraen found herself a nice spot overlooking the gardens of the inner yard, bathed in the sunlight. She knelt, taking the pendant around her neck into her hand. It was a glass vial within a golden filigree, designed to also work as a magical protection against what lay within. For within the vial there was the tiniest sliver of red lyrium, glimmering with menacing light. She closed her hands around the vial and began her prayer in a hushed tone:

"Praise his name, who has risen from the darkness,"

"Praise his name, who has striven for the light,"

"Praise his name, who has walked the Golden City,"

"Praise his name,"

"The Old Gods are no more,"

"The Maker never was,"

"The New God shall return to us."

"Praise his name."


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8; Sea Queens; **

**Characters of the chapter:**

**Isabela **Captain of the Siren'sCall II, admiral of the Felicisima armada (self-appointed)

**Harwyn **Second in command of the Siren's Call II

**Yara Greyjoy **Master of ships on the small council of the south kingdom, commander of the royal navy, Queen of the Iron Islands

"What do you mean we won't be taking the deal?" Harwyn asked of Isabela as they walked briskly towards the prow of the ship.

"I mean exactly that. We're not getting involved in this. It's not worth it." Isabela replied.

"Have you lost your mind? This could be the best thing that has ever happened to this crew, and it's not like the Orlesians are asking anything that we haven't done a hundred times over."

"It's not about what we're being asked to do. It's about who's asking and what it will mean if we do it." Isabela replied, slightly annoyed at her second's insistence.

"What it means?" Harwyn repeated, incredulous. "It will mean pardons for everyone on this tub, and commissions for the two of us. We could be officers for real! And we'd get to be filthy rich in the bargain too! I don't see the bad side on this deal."

"I'm in this line of work because I prefer to be free. I run a strictly freelance operation, everyone on the crew knows it. We sail where we want, when we want and do as we please when we get there. That's what we all signed up for. The Orlesians will ruin that for us. If we take this deal they'll own us for good. I'm not interested in having some pompous Orlesian fool who's never even set foot on a ship tell me what to do with mine for the rest of my days." She countered.

"That's it?" Harwyn asked in disbelief.

"That's it." Isabela confirmed. "If I rob a trade ship or get paid for smuggling I do it because I wished to, because it was fun, because it paid good coin and because I owe no one anything afterwards. If that's not good enough for someone here I'll leave them at a good port so they can find their own way. But until that's the case, this is my ship and we'll do as I say."

"It's yours." Harwyn said, backing down. "But I ask you to reconsider, for the sake of the crew, and yourself. This could set us up for life."

"I know it could." Isabela admitted quietly. "But my answer is still no."

Harwyn hung his head. "Then… I'm sorry Izzy."

It was at that moment that several crewmen, that until that moment had been minding their own business, sprung at Isabela. Even surprised, her reflexes were fast enough that she got her hands on the hilts of her daggers before they caught her wrists, wrenching her arms behind her back, taking as many of her weapons from her as they could find moments later.

"HARWYN! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOUR DOING!?" Isabela yelled as she struggled in the grip of three other crewmen who held her.

"What I **should** do!" Harwyn replied. "It seems to me you no longer have the best interest of this crew at heart. New leadership is required. So…" Harwyn reached out with his hand, taking Isabela's hat from her head and placing it on his own. "… I'm taking command."

It was Isabela's turn to stare at his second in command in disbelief. "You're screwing me over this!? I thought we were friends."

"We were, otherwise I would just slit your throat and be done with it." Harwyn countered. "If I was really feeling nasty I'd turn you over to the lads for a few days first. Maker knows they have their share of frustrations with you. Instead, I will give you a chance in the form of a boat, of which we have only two, so I'm sure you appreciate the sacrifice. I'm even going to give you a map and enough food and water for, say… three days."

"Why are you doing this Harwyn, really?" Isabela asked with a serious tone. "Fancying yourself as an admiral, maybe?" she added poisonously.

"Yeah, maybe I do." Harwyn replied. "And maybe I know this crew **doesn't** fancy being chased by Orlesian warships for the rest of their days. You've lost your touch Izzy. Running around with that Hawke fellow has left you all soft in the head. It used to be that you cared about the bottom line. Sure, even back then you balked at some things, but we always managed to get by. Now, though… The Isabela I knew would never have walked away from a deal this good."

"And the Harwyn I knew would never have turned out to be a fucking traitorous bastard!" Isabela said angrily. Then she suddenly spat on his face. Harwyn wiped her spit from his cheek, glaring at her.

"Watch yourself. My mercy has its limits. I won't put up with crap like that." Harwyn said with strained calm, holding up a finger in warning.

"You deserve no less, traitor." Isabela retorted.

"**You** are the traitor here." Harwyn said. "You became one the moment you failed to do what was the best for this crew. Now, get off my ship."

Then someone hit her over the head, and everything went black. When she woke next, her head ringing, she was on a boat in the middle of the ocean. Her ship was nowhere in sight, all around her there was nothing but ocean. Isabela spat out a long string of curses, damming Harwyn to the darkest reaches of the void, enraged at this turn of events. She shouted her anger and frustration to the empty skies. When she finally calmed down she took stock of her current situation.

Apparently Harwyn had at least been as good as his word regarding food, water and the maps. It still wasn't an act of mercy, not truly. Her ship had been more than three days travel from the closest dry land, and a rowboat travelled more slowly than a proper sea ship. Harwyn had simply wished her gone without having to deal with her directly, which might have upset those few that still harbored loyalty to her. And it seemed currently that Harwyn might get his wish. Either her supplies would run out and she would die of thirst, or one of her enemies pursuing her would catch her and see to it that she was hanged for piracy. And all that provided her boat remained afloat long enough for one of those things to happen.

On hindsight Isabela thought she should have been able to see the betrayal coming. Harwyn had always been popular, regarded as cunning, ruthless and most of all not romantic or idealistic in the slightest. And it was true that her decision was bound to raise some eyebrows, easy for Harwyn to exploit and turn members of the crew against her. None of that ultimately surprised her. What did was that Harwyn would turn on her, an old friend, so readily, or that so many of the crew would follow him. She had miscalculated, badly, and that had cost her.

She was thinking of this when her hand happed to meet a pocket and discover something within. She pulled out the contents, a small stack of papers stamped with the Orlesian sigil.

"So preoccupied with my blasted knives you forgot to check if I had this on me? Your loss and my gain I suppose." Isabela said to herself thoughtfully. A small smile ghosted on her lips. Having these papers would likely not stop Harwyn from going through with his plans. He likely had the most important details already memorized, and he could have another copy as soon as he made contact with Orlesians. But maybe she still had a bargaining tool after all, provided she was found by the right people. It was an option to consider at least.

She kept rowing as much as she was able, heading towards the shore because there was nothing else to do, taking her bearings from the sun by daylight and from the stars at night (a more complicated task than usual, since she was not wholly familiar with local constellations).

It was at the dawn of the third day, she was finishing off the last of her food and water, wondering what she would do next, now that it was all gone. And then she spotted a sail, far away on the horizon. Even though it was still far away, she could tell that it was coming her way, maybe soon close enough to call. Isabela sat down to wait for the ships arrival, trying to decide whether she was relieved or concerned that a ship was coming. When the ship had had time to get closer Isabela managed to get a closer look at it. The ship had black, triangular sails emblazoned with a red dragon with three heads. At the top of the main mast flew a black banner carrying a Golden Kraken.

Exactly the people Isabela had been hoping to be found by.

Isabela bit her lip, taking in a long nervous breath. This was the moment of truth. Now she had to decide whether to draw the attention of her enemies and hope her bargaining chip would work as she wished it to, or remain quiet and hope they passed her by. She had no way of knowing how they might react. If they decided they were better rid of her there was nothing she could do to stop them.

But ultimately the choice was obvious. She had no more food, no more water, and she was still nowhere near any coastline. This was the only ship she had seen for days. When the next one would come here, if such a ship was even coming, it might be too late for her. Her choices consisted of certain death on one hand and almost certain death on the other. Knowing this she stood up on her boat and began to shout at the other ship as loudly as her lungs could manage, waving one of the oars she had to better get the attention of the ship. After a while of doing that, she saw the ship change course and head straight for her, and she knew she had succeeded. When the ship reached her a rope ladder war lowered and she climbed on board. As Isabela had expected, the crew consisted of Ironborn in their grey coats and leather armor. The crew parted to reveal a woman that Isabela knew to be the one in charge of this ship, recognizing her due to the cat and mouse games they had been playing at sea for close to two years.

"Admiral Isabela." the woman greeted her.

"Admiral Yara." Isabela replied, giving a mock bow.

"That's **Queen** Yara to you." The Queen of the Iron islands replied dryly.

"Ah. Well… all the better!" Isabela said, grinning.

Yara glanced over the side of the ship at the boat Isabela had arrived in. "Could've sworn your ship was a lot bigger when last I saw it. Did it shrink in the rain or something?"

"Err, no. It turns out I had something of an uprising on my hands." Isabela admitted, mildly embarrassed.

Yara chuckled. "Pirates happened eh?"

"Yeah, pirates. Bloody pirates." Isabela sighed.

"Well, we all have bad days, don't we?" Yara said with a smile. "Take her below. And for the sake of the Drowned God secure her properly this time. I don't want to have a repeat of what happened on the _Kraken's fury_." she then told her crew.

"I have information you might valuable adm… that is, Your Grace. Something of great value, vital to the security of the kingdoms. Maybe we can strike a deal?" Isabela said just as the Ironborn were about to take a hold of her.

Yara paused. "I have been chasing you up and down this coast, from Arbor to Bear Island and back, for two years. TWO. YEARS. In that time you have caused me an endless list of embarrassments and frustrations, costing me more time, effort and patience than I even knew I had available to spend. Now that I finally have you in my hands, you want to bargain. Do you take me for a fool?" She asked.

"Oh, not to worry, only if you refuse me." Isabela replied, her tone light and playful.

Her glib tongue caused Yara's eyes to narrow with barely controlled annoyance before she regained her composure. "Even if what you say is true, why would I bargain for this? I have you. I could just make you tell me. There are certainly ways to do so" She asked.

"You could try." Isabela admitted, unfazed by implied threat of torture. "It will cost you even more time, effort and patience, and you might end up with nothing more than the first convenient lie that pops into my head. Or you could agree to my terms and be guaranteed real information. I won't ask for much. Hear me out at least."

"I suppose there's nothing to lose if I do so." Yara mused after a moment of consideration. "Speak quickly, and know I make no promises."

Isabela nodded and procured the papers she had into her hand. "These contain all the information you need. Once we have a deal I'll give them to you. You can deliver them to the Dragon Queen at you leisure."

A few of the Ironborn reacted on instinct, moving to take the papers from her, but Isabela was quicker. With a few brisk steps she ran to the side of the ship, standing on the railing. She tutted at the Ironborn crewmen, wagging a finger at them while her other hand held the papers dangerously over the water. "Not so fast gentlemen. One wrong move from you and these papers get a dip in the water. You'll get nothing then." Isabela said, smiling mischievously all the while.

"For all we know those papers are just bad poetry." Yara commented. "How do we know that they'll be worth our while?" She then asked.

"You'll get to read them the minute we have a deal. If they really **are** bad poetry, you'll know at once, and I'll pay the price for my little jest."

Yara bit her lower lip, weighing her options. "Back off." She finally said to her crew, which they did immediately. "Name your conditions. What do you want?" she then told Isabela.

The pirate nodded, and complied: "What do I want? Freedom."

"You want freedom?" Yara asked, raising an eyebrow. "Jump overboard and see how far freedom gets you." She then suggested.

"Very funny." Isabela said sarcastically. "And also not what I had in mind. What I would have is this: One, I won't be hanged or be turned over to someone who intends to hang me. Two, my crimes before this will be pardoned to the greatest extent you and yours can manage to do. Three, I reserve the right to walk away whenever I want. At any port, at any time, with no conditions or strings attached, nothing owed to anyone and no threats hanging over my head because of anyone in the Twin Kingdoms. Until then, seeing as I have neither a ship nor a crew, I'll work for you instead, in whatever way you see fit, if you'll have me."

A surprised silence lingered on the deck of the ship.

"You… would serve me?" Yara said slowly, dubious.

"Yes, if you like." Isabela confirmed. "As to why you might wish to, like you so kindly mentioned, you have been chasing me for two years. Ask yourself what kind of skill does it take to do so to someone like you. All that is yours, if only you agree."

"I take this would mean you want a ship of your own?" Yara queried.

Isabela gave a short laugh. "Wanting and getting are not the same thing, near as I can see. Being an ordinary member of the crew is a step down for me, to be certain, but right now saving my skin matters more to me. The best way to do that is to make my skin worth something to someone else. And if somewhere along the line I get a chance to kick Harwyn in the balls, all the better."

"Who be Harwyn?" Yara asked, frowning.

"The one who stole my ship from me. I intend to make him pay for that."

"Ah." Yara said, understanding. "If you joined me, you would do as you're told?" the Ironborn Queen asked next, still barely believing her ears.

"If you tell me to scrub the decks clean then that's what I'll do, though I tell you now that would be a waste. I can fight well and I know my way around a ship as well as anyone here." The pirate assured.

"And I am supposed to trust this, to take you on your word?" Yara asked sharply.

"Yes, in much the same way I'm supposed to trust **you** and take you on **your** word. For all I know you intend to turn on me as soon as you have what you want from me. It's a gamble for both of us, but my options are far worse if the gamble fails." Isabela countered. Yara gave a nod, conceding the other woman's point.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence as the Queen of the Iron Islands considered the offer presented. "Alright." she said finally. "We'll give it a try, on the terms you have named. Half a whiff of betrayal and I'll make you an offering to the Drowned God, understood? Now, the papers, if you would."

Isabela handed over the papers, which Yara immediately proceeded to read. The more she read, the deeper the look of concern on her face. "Is this authentic?" She asked when she was done reading.

"Do I look like a forger to you?" Isabela asked as her response.

"You look like a whole list of unsavory things, but that's not necessarily a bad thing." Yara countered. "Still, if this even remotely true then this is vital information, well worth the price you asked for. Come, we will discuss this further in my cabin, work out the details of our arrangement."

Isabela nodded and followed the Ironborn Captain.

"By the way, common courtesy dictates I should ask: will you be needing more clothes? I mean, that's not terribly much." Yara asked after a few steps, gesturing at Isabela's outfit.

"What? Nah, no need for that. This is just the way I dress." Isabela answered, walking past Yara, heading for the cabin.

"Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining…" Yara said to herself, admiring the figure of the other woman as she walked away, still beautiful despite subtle sings of creeping age.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9; Of bears and horned men;**

**Characters of the Chapter**

**Lyanna Mormont, **Lady of Bear Island

**Ser Caleb Threestones, **Knight of Westeros,Second to Lyanna Mormont

"So, are our troops ready?" Asked Lyanna Mormont, a woman of eighteen years as she was pulling on a gauntlet.

"They are my lady. I just hope the king considers the numbers we send adequate. There aren't all that many after all, and I'd hate to see him angry because he thinks we are holding back." Said Caleb, a young knight roughly of Lyanna's age.

"I wouldn't worry. The king knows full well that house Mormont is small in number and that we haven't fully recovered from our earlier commitments him and King Robb." She said. "Besides, he should have no cause to complain. Last time we gave him sixty two men, and with that number we obliterated the Boltons. We are bringing three times as many this time around. If the old signs hold true this thing will be over in an afternoon." She joked.

"A short campaign then? That would be a welcome change of pace would it not? Although I would be loath to travel all the way to the mainland to march straight back home once we get there." He returned the jest.

"Oh I'm certain that no one will mind if we stick around for a few weeks afterward, and enjoy the local scenery. By that time we should have been able to do _something_ to earn such a break."

"Go get the men to marching order, I'll be right out." She then told Caleb. Caleb gave a curt bow and left, and Lyanna checked that her equipment was in order one last time. She was armored in a suit of chain complete with a coif, with a leather cuirass worn over the mail, the Bear of house Mormont pressed into the leather. Steel gauntlets protected her hand and arms above the elbow and steel boots did likewise below the knee. A heavy cloak of deep forest green hung over her shoulder while she was riding, although if battle was near she would not wear it so it would not impede her movement. As her weapon she had eschewed the ax usually carried by Mormont women. Instead she carried a longsword forged for her hand as well as a long, slender and stiff dagger designed to pierce plate or go between the links of chainmail.

Satisfied that her outfit was in order she walked outside, where she found her troops already in waiting. Perhaps half of her force were archers, the rest had shields and either swords, axes or short spears. Most of her force were men, but there were also a few women who had never quite gotten to putting down the weapons they had picked up in the service of king Jon during the second War for the Dawn. She had never objected to them doing so like other lords and ladies of Westeros might have done, quite the contrary. There was a long tradition of female Mormont warriors, why not extend that to the rest of the people from her island? And a few of these women had had a tenure as Inquisition soldiers and she was not nearly foolish enough to set aside people with such extensive experience.

With their thick mops of hair and the bushy beards of the men, they looked every inch what one would expect the warriors in the service of her house to be like. An outside observer might have thought them an unruly mob, but she knew well their true worth. "Any fighter from Bear Island was worth a dozen from the mainland." Had she once said of them, and she thought that still. Few though their numbers were, her people were fierce, brave and loyal to a fault. "Yet your people have not been tested against this enemy." Warned the more cautious part of her. How well would her people fare against the disciplined footsoldiers and the legendary Chevaliers of the Orlesian Empire? Then she shook her concerns aside. She would do her best to lead her people to victory and see what happened.

She spotted her horse at the head of the column, and Caleb was also nearby, already mounted on his own horse. He was encased head to toes in shining heavy plate that through some queer foreign trick had a distinct pale green tint to it. His shield was made of wood and cloth over it and carried the colors of his house, three grey circles in a triangle set on a field of dark green. Lyanna had to admit that Caleb made quite a handsome sight sitting atop his warhorse, feeling a slight stirring of warmth in her chest.

She climbed atop her own horse and the force set out, heading for the shore, where ships would be waiting to carry them to the mainland. From there it would be a longer march to Winterfell where the army of the King was assembling. She and Caleb were the only ones on horseback; at the rear of the marching column there were three carts carrying supplies and pulled by mules, beyond that everyone was on foot.

As they marched the morning sun began to warm the air, the mist of the night receding. Already Lyanna could guess that by midday the weather would be sweltering. "The spring has only just properly begun. If it gets this warm this early in the morning, then this will be one hot summer." she thought. Briefly she mused on the past when summers and winters could last for years.

"If that were still the case these invaders would never have dared to come here. They could not defy a winter as long and cold as those of the past." She thought bitterly. Her generation had been the last to witness a true winter, and even that one had been abruptly interrupted by the destruction of the White Walkers. In a way she was glad of that. It had undoubtedly made life easier; that much was already becoming clear, even though the condition had been in effect for less than a decade. Yet she had to wonder just what they had gone and unleashed in their victory over the army of the dead. It had created a new vulnerability, one that had not existed before. It meant that the North could be taken and most importantly held by peoples not native to this land. The Orlesians were the first to try and exploit the situation, but now that they had opened the door it could never be closed again. Even if the Twin Kingdoms won this war sooner or later others would be tempted to follow in the footsteps of the Empire and try their own luck against them, of that she was certain.

In the beginning of this invasion she had witnessed an end of an era and the beginning of another. Just as it had been when the dead were defeated. Just as it had been when Seven Kingdoms had become two. Just as it had been when the Thedosians showed up for the first time. Far more changes than she had ever thought she would witness, far more than she had ever wanted to have.

"Well, at least the Orlesians were a common enemy, arriving to conquer rather than exterminate." She told herself, trying to lighten her own mood. It was comforting to face an enemy with such mundane motivations, to defend the freedom of her people rather than their right to live. And their magic tricks aside they were normal people that could die from blades. That meant they could be fought, and defeated. Steel could still be their salvation, even if cold would no longer serve them.

They had almost reached the shore when she spotted a man running toward them, probably one of the sailors. To her concern she noted that his gait was stumbling and panicky, waving and shouting incoherently as he ran toward them, his clothes bloodstained and in tatters, a nasty looking cut just above one eye.

When he reached them he fell on his hands and knees in front of her horse. "Help us, please my lady. They attacked us, destroyed our ships, slaughtered us. They are coming ashore. Help us, help us, you have to…" He sobbed.

"What are you talking about? They who? Who attacked you? Orlesians? Pirates?" She demanded.

"No, no! Neither of those! Monsters! Monsters with horns! They came with ships that belched smoke and death. They killed everyone…" Said the wounded man.

She frowned, briefly pondering what he meant by monsters with horns. "Get yourself to safety. We will get to the bottom of this." She then said to the wounded man, and he ran off, continuing down the path as fast as he was able.

"It seems that our Journey to the mainland will have to be delayed." Lyanna said to Caleb.

"No kidding. And in the bargain we seem to be facing a whole another invader." He replied. Then his expression became thoughtful: "Hmm. Horns. Ships of smoke and death. That description does fit a faction that has passed by this Island before does it not?"

After a moment of consideration Lyanna's eyes widened in shock when she realized what Caleb was alluding to: "Oh no. It better not be them. Not now. Not when the Orlesians are invading as well. We might all be fucked, us and the mainlanders."

After that she spurred her horse on, with Caleb right behind her, the rest of their entourage running behind both of them.

Emerging to within sight of the beach they were met with a devastating sight. Over the water there was a ship larger than any Lyanna had ever seen. It had fierce red sails that bore a strange sigil, like a square standing on its tip with a strange jagged shape running through it. Around this monster of a ship there were wrecks of three smaller ships, burning and rapidly sinking beneath the waves. There were boats on the shore, upturned and likewise ablaze. Other boats were making landfall, each disgorging soldiers to the beach, huge soldiers with grey skin and horned heads.

"Fuck, you were right. It's them. Blasted Qunari." Lyanna cursed.

It was at that very moment they were spotted, one of the Qunari soldiers pointing straight at them. In response another soldier waved a flag at the Qunari ship. Moments later the side of the ship erupted with fire and smoke, a sound akin to thunder coming across the water.

Lyanna's horse panicked at the sights and sounds, reared and threw her from the saddle. A good thing too, for at that exact moment a flurry of fast moving objects flew at them, raising up plumes of sand and shattering trees behind them. One of them caught her horse in the chest, and her horse practically exploded, coating her in sticky red from head to toes.

"Gods dammit… disgusting!" She cursed, wiping blood and horse bits from her eyes.

"My lady, are you alright?" Caleb said, having dismounted and helping her up, letting his terrified horse run away.

"Yeah, yeah, fine." She assured. "What was that? Magic?" She asked. Glancing around herself she saw that most of her people had survived, having had the sense to take cover when the fist shots sounded.

Caleb shook his head. "Cannons. I've heard a little about them, but I never imagined anything like that."

"We need to get to the one with the flag, he's signaling the ship." Lyanna said, pointing.

"I don't know. There seem to be quite a lot of Qunari." He tried to protest.

"There are. What's your point?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

Caleb rolled his eyes. "Right, I forgot. Doesn't matter to you, does it? Let's do this." He said, drawing his sword.

Lyanna nodded and drew her own sword. "Follow!" She yelled, running toward the enemy, her people following at her heels.

The Qunari threw javelins at the charging warriors of house Mormont, killing a few of her people. The archers they had with them returned fire and at least one Qunari went down. Then the two groups met. Lyanna used her sword to swat aside the spear of her opponent, then struck at his shoulder, grunting in surprise at the unexpected resistance. The Qunari soldier wore nothing above his waistline except red war paint, but striking the skin felt like hitting at chainmail. She ducked under the counterstrike of her opponent, struck his collarbone with the pommel of her sword, then slashed him across the chest, feeling much less resistance this time. "Go for the grey parts!" She shouted to her people, realizing that it was the red paint that was somehow making the skin unusually tough. She turned aside another spear thrust, and sliced open the meat of her opponent's thigh. As he stumbled and doubled over from the leg wound she finished him off by promptly beheading him.

"Tough creatures." She thought before turning to seek out her next opponent. She saw one Qunari set fire to a rope connected to a small metal ball, and then throw the ball at her people. A few moments later there was an explosion and three of her people were killed on the spot. The Qunari pulled another ball from his belt, but before he could ignite it Lyanna slashed at his wrist, leaving a wound on his arm and causing him to drop the ball in his hand. The soldier let out an angry snarl and hit her with a backhanded strike, hard enough to knock her over, causing her sword to slip out of her hand. Lying on the ground she pulled out her dagger and stabbed the Qunari in the leg. He spat a curse in his own language and stomped on her wrist, pinning her arm to the ground. He raised a spear in his hand, ready to impale her. Lyanna caught a glimpse of green armor behind the Qunari's shoulder before a sword pierced his torso and the said soldier fell on her, fresh blood gushing on her from his open wound.

"Fucking twice…" She grumbled as Caleb pushed the Qunari off her.

"What's that you said?" Caleb asked, confused.

"Never mind that." She said picking herself up and taking stock of the situation. The Qunari that still lived had formed into ordered ranks, advancing with rhythmic steps, the ones in the rear hurling javelins while those at the front cut down anyone that came within reach. Her people were faltering before this, unable to stand against this disciplined formation. Lyanna's archers were firing at the enemy, trying to stop them, but most of their arrows were bouncing harmlessly off the Qunari's locked shields.

"Shit, this is not good." Caleb cursed.

"Don't count us out yet. I have an idea." Lyanna countered, going to search the corpse of the dead Qunari soldier. It was not long until she found what she sought, taking one of the metal balls into her hands. She used one of the burning boats to set fire to the cord and threw the grenade at the Qunari formation. The grenade landed just outside their ranks and rolled to amongst their legs. It touched the leg of one of the soldiers, who stopped, saw the grenade and managed to shout half a syllable in warning before the grenade went off. Packed as closely together as they were, the grenade did terrible damage, taking out nearly a third of them at once, the entire right flank of their formation collapsing. When they recovered from the blast those that survived broke ranks and charged at her. But by that time Caleb had apparently found more grenades in one of the Qunari boats, throwing two more at the enemy. The pair of explosions that resulted was enough to kill the Qunari taste for battle, sending them retreating back to their boats.

Seeing the enemy break away, Lyanna ran forward, picking up one of the enemy Javelins. The weapon was awkwardly heavy for her and the distance she had to throw it was considerable, but nevertheless she threw the Javelin with all her strength, catching the enemy banner bearer in the back, causing him to collapse onto the sand just before he reached the boats. Then the remaining boats pulled away, the survivors heading back to their ship. Her archers did the rest, pouring arrows at the enemy until nothing lived in the boats.

Lyanna walked briskly through the battlefield, picking up the Qunari banner from the grasp of its dead bearer. She broke the pole of the banner against her knee before tossing the pieces into the water.

"Stay the fuck out of my island!" Shouted angrily at the Qunari dreadnaught.

As if in reply the guns on the dreadnaught fired again, except this time the shots came from the upper deck rather than the depths of the hull. These cannonballs travelled far more slowly, clearly visible as they sailed through the air. Just before it hit the ground the first cannonball burst apart over their heads, killing a dozen of her people that had been standing just under it. Another landed amongst one of their carts before exploding, tearing asunder the cart, the driver and the mule.

"Damn." Lyanna cursed. "Can't stand up to that thing from here."

"We have to get out of range." Caleb said.

"Fall back! Fall back everyone!" Lyanna yelled to her people.

"Bring that crate!" Caleb shouted to two of them, pointing at the crate where it lay on the sand. "More of those exploding… whatever they were in there. Might be useful later." He explained to Lyanna as the two he had commanded went to get the crate.

"Good thinking." Lyanna said.

They fled before the dreadnought, the ship firing after them with cannons and mortars. They had just reached the tree line when an explosion shattered a tree to Lyanna's left and she suddenly felt a sharp pain in her leg. She let out a yelp, then hobbled to lean on a nearby tree, a snarl escaping her lips.

"My lady, are you all right?" Caleb asked her, having run back to her when he noticed she was hit.

"Managing. It's not serious. Just lend me a hand." She hissed between clenched teeth.

Caleb let her lean on him as she limped away.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10; Red Sails;**

**Characters of the Chapter**

**Yara Greyjoy **Master of ships on the small council of the south kingdom, commander of the royal navy, Queen of the Iron Islands

**Isabela **Sailor on the Seadancer, former Captain of the Siren'sCall II, admiral of the Felicisima armada (self-appointed)

"I must say I like this ship you have." Isabela said to Yara, her tone light and chatty.

It was early morning near Bear Island, a heavy fog obscuring vision. The winds weren't as strong as they could have been. Even so they were making good progress as the _Seadancer _was making its way to the Iron Islands.

The Queen of the Iron Islands smiled at the comment the pirate had made. "I'm rather proud of her myself. It's built around the design of my late uncle's ship, the _Silence._"

"Late uncle? What happened to him?" Isabela asked.

"He died, during the capture of King's Landing years ago." Yara said nonchalantly.

"It wasn't too great a loss. My uncle was the biggest ass ever to live, and would've gladly murdered me if it meant more power for him. I know it, because he did try it several times. So it was a relationship of mutual hatred, and I've never lost a night's sleep over the whole affair." She added.

"Sounds like you have a very complicated family." Isabela said.

"Oh, you have no idea." Yara said, rolling her eyes.

"Makes me happy I don't have one. The friends I have made over the years are family enough for me. When they don't stab me in the back that is." Isabela said.

"And when they do?" Yara asked.

"Then I deal with it, like I'm going to do with Harwyn. I think I have indulged you in enough elaborate revenge fantasies for you to know what that means." Isabela said.

"Indeed. But it may take some time before you get a chance to act on that, and I can't promise we'll run across him at all." Yara commented.

"I'll wait. For a time at least. If we haven't found him by the end of the war I may wish to strike out on my own to seek him out. But until then I'll remain here." Isabela said.

"That surprises me. You really don't strike me as the type who would stick around in the middle of a war." Yara said.

"Ordinarily I wouldn't go within a hundred miles of a mess like this. But because of the unfortunate influence of one Serah Hawke these days I have something approximating a sense of responsibility. It's quite a burden to have, gets me into all kinds of shenanigans I end up regretting. I'm still pissed at Hawke sometimes for that." Isabela quipped, making Yara laugh.

"Besides, where else would I go? I don't have a ship, and without one there is very little chance of me finding Harwyn or doing anything else for that matter. I was stranded in Kirkwall for several years once before. It's not an experience I'm looking forward to repeating." She added.

"So… you're an admiral but you only have one ship?" Yara asked, confused.

"Well… it happens that that was just a title I fancied having. It doesn't actually mean anything, at least not in my case. We raiders aren't all that organized, remember? Anyone who wishes can call themselves an admiral, provided the others don't yell loud enough to shout you down." Isablela admitted with some embarrassment.

"Seriously? Talk about misleading description. "Yara scoffed. "So do you have any actual pull amongst the raiders?" She asked.

"Some. I'm one of their more experienced captains, so they tend to take it seriously when tell them something. I don't do that often, mind you. I'm not interested politics and such."

"Some admiral you are. Unbelievable…" Yara said, chuckling.

"It isn't that funny!" The pirate protested. "Your own title isn't all that different. You're a Queen but you answer to another one. What kind of Queen does that?"

"How did that happen by the way? How did you go from being a leader of raiders to hunting them down in service to the Dragon Queen?" She asked.

"That was the price she demanded in exchange for her support of my claim to rule the Iron Islands. At the time it seemed like a fair trade." Yara replied. "That doesn't mean that it has been easy convincing the rest of my people of the same. Anything but. We have long traditions around raiding and it has been a bitch to eradicate those traditions. But I finally managed to sell them the angle that we were paying the Iron Price by killing the Dragon Queen's enemies. Doing that we have earned the one thing we never earned from the mainlanders in all our raids: Respect. It used to be that people were filled with fear when they saw our sails. Now they revere us as heroes. The things we used to take from others by force they now give us willingly, without us even having to ask for them."

"Do you ever think of going back to the way things used to be?" Isabela asked.

"There are days. I'm sure there are still those among my people who wish for that as well." She admitted. "But that would not be the right thing to do, I see that now. And so I expect that I will be fighting my worst impulses for the rest of my life, as well as those of my people. I can only hope my people won't slide back to old habits once I'm gone."

"That sounds like a very nasty way to live, constantly denying yourself things you want. Don't know if I could live like that." Isabela commented.

"No, you don't seem the type to deny yourself anything." Yara joked, making the pirate laugh aloud.

"So, one we get to the Iron Islands, what's our plan?" Isabela asked then, changing the subject.

"That depends entirely on the Dragon Queen." Yara answered. "The documents you provided make it clear than an invasion is coming. If she doesn't yet know that then we have to warn her. And if she does know then doubtless she has new commands for us. A raven can't find a moving ship, so the Iron Islands is where she will have sent them. After that there will be a lot of work for us getting the Iron Fleet ready for war."

"I see. Well, I certainly look forward to seeing the place you come from. Maybe you could give me a tour while we're at it? I…" Isabela said before the smile on her face suddenly froze. "Whoa…" She breathed placing her hands on the railing, peering at something over the water.

"What is it?" Yara asked, frowning.

"About two points off our bow, in the fog… I thought I saw a shape... something big." Isabela said uncertainly, pointing in the direction."

"A ship?" Yara asked, looking in the direction Isabela had pointed.

"I don't… I don't know. It was just there for a second." Isabela said, shaking her head, hesitantly pointing in the direction again.

Yara bit her lip, then turned to one of her nearby crewmen. "Did you see it?"

"No. But I wasn't looking either." The crewman said with a shake of his head before returning to work.

Yara nodded slowly. "Very well. It's good to be alert. You did the right thing. Carry on." She said to Isabela.

The pirate nodded and walked to the other side of the deck, returning to her duties. Yara was about to turn away when some sailor's instinct made her take one last look. That turned out to be a very good thing yo do, for in that instance there were a series of orange flashes deep within the fog.

"DOWN! ALL HANDS DOWN!" She yelled, throwing herself onto the deck as a rumbling sound carried over the water.

Moments later a cloud of fast moving object tore at their ship, sundering the railing, smashing the stairs that led to the aft castle and blasting several holes in their hull. Most of those not embracing the floor boards at that moment were slain, blasted apart by the deadly storm. Next to Isabela a man went down, a large wooden splinter impaled through his thigh.

After a while the deafening clamor quieted around them and the crew uncertainly got on their feet, fearful of another volley. Yara peered in the direction the shots had come from, seeing the monster that had assailed them, quietly sliding out of the mist:

It was an enormous ship, easily three times the size of the _Seadancer_. It's sails were blood red.

"A Qunari dreadnought? Here?" Isablela breathed with a startled voice.

"Looks that way. You've faced them before?" Yara said.

"Ran away more like. I think we are well and truly screwed." Isabela said.

"Fuckers aimed too high. Any lower and our hull would have been torn wide open." Yara noted.

"Still managed to trash us pretty good." Isabela said.

"Give me a damage report!" Yara told her crew.

"The rudder's shot up! The steering won't answer Ma'am!" One crewman reported moments later, looking over the ship's side.

"Our catapult is destroyed! We cannot fire!" Another reported.

"Damn. We're a fish in the barrel." Yara cursed.

"Arm yourselves! Prepare to repel boarders!" She shouted.

"Wait up. What are you doing?" Isabela said, taking Yara's arm.

"I'm not going down without a fight." Yara explained. "When they try to board us…"

"They won't." Isabela said. "They have cannons, and they are not after prisoners of cargo. They'll just sit at a comfortable range and blast us into toothpicks."

"Then what the fuck do you suggest we do instead?" Yara asked, angry.

"We run." Isabela said. "We run and find help, ships that are intact enough to take that thing on."

"Run? What, did you miss the part about our rudder? We can't go anywhere!" Yara said.

"We have boats. The one I brought and the one you have already. We can use them to turn us to the wind and tow us. We don't have to get far, just deep enough into the fog so they can't see us. The Qunari have drifted out of range, it'll take them a minute to bring themselves back around, which gives us a chance, but we have to act now." Isabela said.

"Please. I know what those ships can do. We can't win this, not alone, not in this state." Isabela pleaded when Yara hesitated.

"If this is some trick of yours to avoid getting into combat…" Yara warned, pointing a finger at the other woman.

"It's not, I promise. Wait around a few more minutes and you'll see for yourself, except I won't be here to say I told you so." Isabela said.

Yara hesitated only a while longer, staring at the Qunari warship. "Braedon… get our strongest lads on the boats. Put us into the fog. Oden, get a team working on the ropes. Once we have the wind, give me full sails. We need to harness every shred of wind we can get. Everyone else, start bailing out water and throw everything we can afford to lose overboard! We need to stay afloat at any cost."

"MOVE IT. MOVE LIKE YOUR LIFE DEPENDED ON IT!" She bellowed as her crew jumped into action. "It does…" She added under her breath.

As the _Seadancer_ was turned around, the Qunari followed them. But even in its damaged state the Iron Islander ship was smaller and faster, beginning to outpace the Dreadnought.

"They're falling behind…" Isabela said with a hopeful smile.

"Were not out of this yet." Yara warned.

Near the prow of the enemy ship a pair of cannons spoke, putting holes through their sails. Seeing this, Yara hurried to the bow of her ship.

"Row! Row you bastards! Row like you're pulling someone off your sweetheart!" She shouted at the boats, the rowers doubling their efforts.

"Just a little longer…" She said as the fog bank grew ever closer. When the fog finally began to envelop them the crew started cheering.

"Quiet! Quiet down! No shouts, no calls!" Yara ordered sharply, and the cheering quieted. Seeing them about to slip away the Qunari ship executed a quick turn to port, unleashing a final blind salvo after them, filling the air with the thrum of passing cannonballs. A tense silence followed, the crew afraid to speak too loudly for fear of attracting the enemy ship that they knew was still out there. The crew on the boats kept on rowing until they were exhausted, while the rest fought to keep the ship from sinking. After a long while one of Yara's crewmen came to inform her that the leaking had been brought under control and that the ship was no longer in imminent danger. Tired but relieved that they were now safe, Yara sat down on the deck, leaning her back against the railing.

Sometime later Isabela came to her, sitting down beside Yara. "So…I've… done a check on our casualties." Isabela said.

"So, what's the butcher's bill?" Yara asked.

"Nine dead, about two dozen wounded." Isabela said.

"Incredible." Yara said, quiet admiration in her voice. "One volley, and they took out our rudder and almost a third of our crew. Damn fine gunnery."

"You made a good call today. Retreating was the right thing to do. My crew and I are alive because of you. Thank you." She said to Isabela, who smiled and nodded at the compliment.

"…Months at sea, and they happen on our exact position?" Yara said after a moment of contemplation.

"They have the means do that, believe me. The way I hear it, their spies are even more impressive than their cannons." Isabela said. "Though just as well this might have been coincidence, us being in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Still doesn't explain why they fired on us in the first place. Last I checked they weren't our enemies. Used to be when we saw Qunari ships we didn't pay any mind to each other." Yara said.

Isabela scoffed. "I wouldn't waste too much time trying to figure out how the oxmen think. Their Qun makes them almost impossible to understand, not to mention boring. You never know what might tick them off. I once stole a book form them and they haven't stopped chasing me since, not even after I gave the damn thing back to them."

"Well I have to think on it at least a little. I have to figure out whether this was some weird one time incident or if this was part of something bigger." Yara said. "Wait a minute. You're saying they might have been after you? That you might have been the reason this happened?"

"No! I mean, I don't see how." Isabela protested quickly. "No one knows I'm here except you and your crew. And not too long ago I could not have imagined being here myself. Qunari might have good spies but they're not bloody clairvoyant. Plus I didn't have a clue there were Qunari in the area. I would have warned you otherwise, because I don't fancy getting blown to bits."

"I'll admit put like that it doesn't seem too likely a reason." Yara admitted. "Ok, you're off the hook on that. Still, I think I'd like to hear the full story about this book you stole from them. Sounds like it might be a rather interesting tale."

"Oh boy…" Isabela said with a sigh. "Okay. Now that I've said as much as I did you might as well know the rest of it. But if you have no problem with it then I'd like to get myself a strong drink first. I has been that kind of day…"

"No problem. Bring some for me too while you're at it." Yara said.

"You got it. I'll be back in a minute." Isabela said, standing up. "I just hope your boys didn't dump it all overboard in their haste."

"Are you kidding? If one of my men threw a keg of drink over the side I'd throw him right after it to bring it back. The Ironborn know not to pass up a good thing, and we definitely don't throw them away." Yara said.

"I knew there was some reason I liked you lot." Isabela quipped before disappearing below deck.

* * *

**Based this sea battle on the opening scene from the film "Master and Commander: On the far side of the world." A very nice film that. I hope you're all enjoying yourselves! **


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11; Storming the Bear's Den;**

**Characters of the chapters**

**Jeremy **Maester of Bear Island

**Lyanna Mormont, **Lady of Bear Island

**Ser Caleb Threestones, **Knight of Westeros,Second to Lyanna Mormont

"There's our little monster." Maester Jerome said sometime later as he removed a flake of blackened metal from Lyanna's calf.

"Such a little thing, and it still hurts like hell." Lyanna contemplated, looking at the sliver of metal no larger than her thumb on the tray where the Maester had put it, while the Maester began to apply an ointment to her wound.

"When it comes to matters of the body, I find it is the small thigs that are the most painful. In this case you were lucky that it was just a ricochet. This should heal fairly quickly. I must say you gave me quite a fright when you arrived, what with you being covered from head to toes with blood. Far less can frighten an old man to death you know." The master said as he worked.

"What can I say? It turns out that Qunari cannons can cause quite a mess. At least I got the chance to wash up when I got here." Lyanna said, grinning.

"Ah yes, the cannons. I have heard of them. Surely such machines are not meant for this world." Jeremy said, his voice grim as he began to apply a bandage to her leg.

"Well they're here, and the Oxmen seem all too gleeful to use them against us." Lyanna said.

The Maester finished his work, and Lyanna examined the bandage, nodding her approval. "On the same note, did you send the raven as I told you to?" She asked.

"Of course. The King will know what has transpired here, have no fear of that." Jeremy assured her.

"Great. I'm sure that the King will be absolutely thrilled that he is now dealing with two invasions for the price of one, a merry gathering of people that want to kill us." She said sarcastically.

"I'm not sure this in the time for levity, my Lady." The Maester chided.

"I know, I know. Joking just makes it easier to handle the severity of this whole mess. This is just about as bad as imagine these things can get. Westeros under siege from two enemies at once, and my home is invaded by an army of giants. Surviving through something like this is not going to be easy." She said.

She began to put her boot back on her leg, which made the Maester frown. "My Lady, what are you doing?" he asked.

"Getting back to it. There is still much that needs doing." She said.

"I do not think you should do that. As small as your injury is, you should not stress it." The Maester protested.

"That is not a luxury I think I can afford at the moment. I have a castle about to be besieged and an island full of people that look to me to lead them." She countered firmly. She grimaced as she tried to put weight on her injured leg. "Just give me something for the pain. No milk of the poppy though. I need to have all my wits about me." She told the Maester.

"Very well." The Maester sighed reluctantly. "Give me a moment, I must think on what might work as an alternative" He said, rummaging through his bottles. "Hmm, perhaps this." He said finally, handing her a bunch of leaves from some plant. "Chew upon them." He instructed her.

"What are these?" She asked as she tasted the juice from the leaves she was munching on her tongue.

"Elfroot. It's a healing herb from Thedas. Supposedly it can dull pain and hasten the healing process." The Maester explained.

"Supposedly?" Lyanna asked.

"Unfortunately I haven't had the chance to verify the matter with my own experiments. At this time I think we might need to take these foreign apothecaries at their word." He said.

"Well, my leg does feel a little bit better than moments ago. I think it's doing its job."

"I'm glad to hear it." He said, smiling. "Of course those same apothecaries say it would be more effective if made into a potion or a poultice, but alas I haven't had the time to try reproducing the Thedosian recipes." He added.

"I see. As long as these leaves do their job, I'm happy." She said. She stood up, refused the cane offered by the Maester and walked out the door, her injured leg causing a slight limp in her gait.

She found her way through her castle and up the wall, where he found Caleb observing the grounds outside the castle.

"Oh. You're here? I thought the Maester would have you stay put." He said, surprised, when he noticed her. "How's the leg?" He asked.

"Stiff. Sore, although the Maester gave me some herbs that are helping. But I'm told that it will heal." She replied.

"Good." Caleb said simply.

"So what is the situation here?" She asked.

Caleb cleared his throat before answering: "It seems that the Qunari are back. They are lurking just beyond the tree line. I can't figure out what they are doing." Pointing out the Qunari positions with his finger.

"Has the castle been prepared?" She asked.

"Yes, of course. We pulled as much food and other supplies behind the walls as we could before the oxmen showed up. The gates are being reinforced, arrows and rocks being brought and oil being heated up to use against the attackers." He said.

"And what of our people? She asked.

"Those who are willing to fight are here, ready to defend the castle. They have been armed with whatever there was left in the castle armory. The rest we have instructed to scatter to the wilderness, deeper on the island. Hopefully the Qunari will not be able to find them there." He said.

"Good. You have done well." She said, approving.

"Thanks. Oh, and before I forget, these are for you. More of the explosive devices the Qunari had on them." He said, handing her a number of Qunari grenades as well as flint and tinder. "The rest of these have been given to people with good throwing arms and taught how to use them." He explained.

Lyanna nodded. "Hopefully these will help our defense. We will make the oxmen rue the day we got our hands on their weapons."

"How many do you think we are facing here?" She asked, looking over the battlements.

"Far fewer than I expected to be honest. A few hundred at most. The crew of that big ship we saw I'd wager." Caleb said.

"That's all?" She pondered, perplexed. "That's not enough to lay siege to a castle. Not nearly enough. I don't care how good fighters the Qunari are claiming to be."

"Maybe they are waiting for reinforcements?" Caleb offered.

"Perhaps. But it's still a bad idea to stop right in front of our walls where we can sally forth to attack them during the night. If they were waiting for reinforcements, why not just stay on their ships and wait for them to arrive? They have to know they already burned the few ships we might have used to bring the battle to them."

"Do they know that? Maybe they just aren't as smart as we are?" He said.

Lyanna shook her head. "That doesn't sound right. Nothing about these people strikes me as stupid. Callous when they want to be, and audacious for intruding to a land that does not belong to them, but not stupid."

"Well I couldn't say what they are up to any more than you do. We'll just have to wait and see." Caleb said.

"I suppose you are right. I just hate a situation where I do not understand the enemy. A lot can go wrong when that is the case. Well, unless the Qunari do something unexpected, our only course of action is to sit tight and wait for reinforcements. They will come, of that I'm certain." She said.

"When, though?" He asked.

"When the King has finished dealing with the Orlesians, or when he has the nearest calm point to spare thoughts on us. Word has been sent, so he will be aware of what has transpired here, and surely he won't want to leave an enemy in possession of a portion of his kingdom. Our job will be to hold out until he can do something about it."

"We are going to need him and his forces, that much is obvious. There aren't enough of us here drive away a force even as small as this. So until something changes the balance they can't get in and we can't get out." Caleb commented.

Then just at that moment there was a flash of light followed by a sound of thunder. Something violently impacted a tower to their right, scattering rock fragments in all directions.

"Woah!" Lyanna shouted in surprise, taking cover behind the crenellations. More impacts began hitting the walls, shredding the defenses.

"The cannons again… those things are portable!?" She exclaimed.

"Looks that way. What are we going to do?" Caleb asked, trying to contain his alarm.

"The walls aren't going to last long against a barrage like that, and once they are breached, the Qunari will take this castle. We need to get everyone out of here, find another way to continue the fight." She said.

"Okay, but how?" He asked. "The oxmen are right outside the gates. With their cannons and soldiers, they will cut us to pieces if we try to get out that way."

"There is another option. There is a hidden tunnel, built so that the family could escape if need be. It's down in the cellars."

"That's… convenient." He commented.

"Well, it wouldn't be a proper castle if it did not have a few hidden tunnels, now would it?" She joked. "We need to round up anyone we can find. We'll be faster if we split up. You circle the walls while I check the yard." She instructed him in a more serious tone.

He nodded gravely and jumped to action. She went to work as well, descending the stairs from the wall to the courtyard. Just as she made it to the base of the stairs there was an explosion right behind her, ripping through the staircase she had walked down just moments before. The sound of the explosion was very loud indeed, but Lyanna never heard it. All she got was a white hot lance of pain in her ears and a sudden silence save for the strange ringing sound she heard.

"Shit. Talk about a close call." She thought as she turned and saw the large hole in the wall. Feeling dizzy, she shook her head to clear the fog from her mind. Then she jumped as two men that she had not heard at all appeared beside her. She reached for her sword until she recognized the men as ones belonging to her house. One of them took a hold of her shoulders, looking straight into her eyes. It took to seeing his mouth move for Lyanna to realize that he was trying to talk to her. His voice came across as muffled and strange and try as she might he could not make out his words.

"I can't hear you! Listen, we have a way out of the castle. Get everyone to the cellars! Right now!" She told him, doing her best to say the words despite the awkwardness of not being able to hear herself. Apparently he understood her nonetheless, for he nodded, wild eyed, and went to do as she instructed.

Slowly Lyanna's hearing returned to her, and she became aware of the shouts and sounds of impacting cannonballs around her. By now the walls were so full of holes that cannonballs were routinely passing through to hit the buildings in the castle, some even hitting people caught in the open. She knew that time was of the essence now. The oxmen could be within the walls any minute.

"Fall back! Everyone to the cellars!" She shouted to anyone that might be within earshot. She helped up a man that had been knocked to the ground before hurrying to the cellars as fast as her injured leg allowed her.

By the time she made it to the cellars the space was already filled to the brim with scared people.

"Caleb, you in here?" She shouted, pressing through the crowd.

"Right here! The Maester is here too!" he replied.

"My lady, thank goodness you're here! We couldn't be sure if you would make it. Where is the passage you mentioned? We have been trying to look for it but we can't seem to…" The Maester began to say.

Lyanna silenced the Maester by holding up her hand, eyes scanning the room. "There." She said, pointing. "That pile of crates. Move them aside."

A few of the people began to shift the crates as she had ordered. "I wondered why no one ever moved these…" one of them mumbled as he worked. Ater a few moments the crates had been moved to the side, revealing the stone wall behind them.

"Alright, now what, there's just more rock. Are you sure we're in the right spot?" Caleb asked.

"Yes. This might look like rock, unless…" She said, before giving one of the stones in the wall a sharp kick. The stone revealed itself to be a thin panel that broke apart from her kick, revealing a hole just wide enough to crawl through. "… you know what you are looking for." She finished.

"Fascinating. I never knew this castle had such construction in it." The Maester commented.

"Only a Mormont would. Until now that is." She said. "You go first Maester, follow the tunnel to its end and receive our people as they come through. Caleb and I will remain here for now and make sure we get everyone out."

"That is not a lot of room." Maester Jeremy said as he began to clamber down to the hole.

"It gets wider once you get past the entrance. Should be enough room to stand up." She reassured him.

It took a moment for the Maester to get through, his chain catching around the edges, but eventually he managed to fit himself through, emerging into the wider space just beyond the entrance. Lyanna turned to the other people in the room as the Maester's footsteps receded as he travelled down the tunnel:

"Alright, head down to the tunnel one at the time, no crowding! Once you're in the tunnel, follow it to the end straightaway and as fast as you can. Do not stop!"

"This is slow going." Caleb grumbled, shaking his head as he watched people head into the tunnel one by one.

"I know. The tunnel was never meant for this many people, just the core family." She agreed. Then she turned her eyes towards the people still in the room.

"As many people as we have with us, it's fewer than I expected. Is this really everyone left alive?" She asked.

"Everyone we could find in the time we had available at any rate. But… maybe there are a few more hiding somewhere?" Caleb said.

"Maybe once everyone else is through you and I could make a quick search of the castle? Just in case." Lyanna offered.

Just then her thoughts were interrupted by panicked shouts coming from outside the cellar:

"THE QUNARI! THE QUNARI ARE IN THE COURTYARD!" Shouted a panicked man as he stumbled through the doorway leading to the cellars, nearly tripping on his own feet in his rush, dashing Lyanna's hopes of finding more survivors.

"Barricade the door! Caleb, with me! The rest of you, continue to head out! Keep it orderly!" She shouted, pressing through the milling crowds.

She and Caleb reached the far side of the room where those closest to the door had piled barrels, heavy crates and other debris. No sooner had they finished their work when the door shook violently, angry shouts in a foreign tongue coming from the other side. An ax struck the boards of the door once, twice, thrice, coming through on the third strike. Lyanna drew her sword and stabbed through the opening, getting a pained gurgle as her reward. When she withdrew her blade the top third of it was coated in blood. The door continued to shudder and splinter as the Qunari fought to get through it.

"That's not going to hold very long." Caleb said with a gulp. He glanced around the room where people were still entering the passage to get out of the castle with ever greater urgency. "We need more time." He added.

Lyanna nodded her agreement before a possibility dawned on her. "Caleb, give me your grenades." She said. Caleb seemed puzzled, but complied nonetheless. "Everyone that has Qunari explosives, give them to me! And get me something to put then in!" She then shouted to the room.

"You can't mean to use them inside here. We'd get caught in the blast too! And if we make a mistake we could set them all off at once, and then the Qunari will have to scrape bits of us off the walls and ceiling." Caleb protested as the grenades were being handed from person to person and Lyanna began to stuff them into a sack she had been provided.

"Oh, I intend for all of them to go off, but only when everyone is safely away. Now keep the Qunari busy while I work." She answered.

As Lyanna continued to fill the sack with explosives, Caleb kept defending the door, stabbing through the cracks in the boards with every opportunity. After each thrust he made spears stabbed from the other side, trying to strike him, one managing to hit close enough to clang off from the armor protecting his shoulder. Finally the door was struck with great force, some of the barrels piled in front of it tumbling down and rolling down the steps, and he had to retreat from the door."

"Caleb… go. Go, now." Lyanna said with forced calm, her eyes wide.

"I'm not leaving you here alone…" He tried to protest.

"NOW!" She snapped at him, sharply enough that he nodded hastily and bolted towards the exit. Lyanna knelt and tried to ignite the cord on one of the grenades. Her hands trembling from anxiety she fumbled with the flint and tinder, failing to strike a spark several times. The door was struck again, opening partway.

"Come on, come on…" She muttered nervously, directing hasty glances at the door. Just as the door was shattered into splinters and a huge, muscular frame stepped through the cord finally caught fire. Lyanna quickly shoved the grenade into the sack.

"Hey you, catch!" She shouted before tossing the sack at him. Reacting on instinct, the soldier raised his hands and caught the sack mid air. He glanced at the sack, then at her, confused. That was the last thing she saw before she dove headlong through the entrance into the secret tunnel. She picked herself up from the floor and managed to take a few running steps before a loud explosion behind her made the whole tunnel shake and she fell over again. Turning around on the ground, she saw the cracks forming on the ceiling, while back in the direction of the cellar the rumble of collapsing stone could be clearly heard, the hole she had entered through sealed by several large boulders. As dust and small pebbles rained on her, she curled into a ball on the ground, and prayed that the roof above her would hold. After what felt like an eternity had passed the rumbling finally quieted, and she heard running steps in the tunnel.

"Lyanna!" Caleb shouted her name as he ran to her. "Lyanna! Gods, are you…?"

"I'm alright. I'm not hurt." She said, breathless, unable to tear her eyes away from the cracked roof. "Remind me to hire some masons to check the stonework when we come back here. That whole collapse thing should not have happened, no matter how many explosives I used." She said.

"It's a done deal. On the upside, this way we can be certain the Oxmen won't be able to follow us." He replied, obviously relieved that she was unhurt.

He helped her up and they proceeded through the tunnel. As they walked Lyanna's limp worsened. The pain dulling effects of the elfroot were beginning to wear off, and she now felt a sharp sting with every step she took. "Damn this thing." She cursed, rubbing her leg. "The Maester was probably right, I should not have stressed my leg this much so soon. But what else could I do?"

"If you need to lean on me, I won't mind it." Caleb offered helpfully.

Lyanna chuckled. "No, I don't think that will be necessary. I'll manage, although the Maester will likely need to take another look at it when there is time."

"It's funny…" She suddenly said after a moment of walking in silence.

"What is?" Caleb asked.

"Just about every time I have been in danger or in need of help lately you have been right there for me. And I basically had to scream at you to get you to leave when the Qunari were forcing their way through the door." She explained.

"I… well, I'm your second, and an anointed knight no less. It's my job." He said. "I'll always be there for you Lyanna…" He added quietly.

She smiled warmly. "Thank you Caleb. That means a great deal."

Finally they emerged from the tunnels and into the woods outside the castle, shielding their eyes from the sudden light. There was a persistent fog of foul smelling smoke that stung their eyes in the air, giving a strange greyness to the world around them. There was no one else around, and Lyanna guessed that the others had gone on ahead.

Something about the smoke made her turn around and look where they had come from. Seeing the smoking ruin that had become of the place she had been raised in made it all hit home: What had happened, how much had been lost, the hardships that were ahead.

"No…" She breathed, seeking support against a nearby tree, feeling a knot of grief in her stomach. "Kicked out of my own home, dammit…" She said, holding back tears. "MY OWN HOME!" She screamed.

Caleb laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Lyanna… we have to go."

She looked at Caleb's hand for a few seconds before placing her own hand on top of his. "Yes, we must." She said, bowing her head.

"But one day I will be back, and on that day they will regret all of this." She said, lifting her head up, defiance in her eyes.


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12****; ****War preparations**

**Characters of the chapter**

**Daenerys Targaryen, **The Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains, Queen of the of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men of the South, Queen of the South Kingdom of the Twin kingdoms and Protector of the Realm

**Davos Seaworth **Knight of Westeros, Advisor to King Jon

**Edmond Brahms, **Knight of Nevarra, Military advisor to the court of King Jon

**Jon Snow, **also known as Aegon Targaryen and Jon Stark, King of the North Kingdom of the Twin Kingdoms

"That's almost everyone." Jon said, observing his army assembling at the camp just outside Winterfell. Other banners were making their way to the camp even as they watched, streams made of men converging at this point. By Jon's count his army now consisted of some twenty thousand men. Considering the casualties sustained by the North in wars past he was pleased to note that he had managed to pull together as large a force as this. It might not have surprised him if he had received a force half this number or less. Perhaps it was best not to question how his lords had managed the feat. No doubt many of the soldiers in his army were freshly conscripted people who had not yet tasted battle, but he could work with that. He was more worried that even this considerable force was not enough, for he had heard that the Orlesian army was very large indeed. He needed to join forces with Daenerys as soon as he was able, that seemed certain. At least this business held the prospect of seeing her again after months apart.

For all the banners that had rallied here there was one that was missing, one he would have dearly hoped to see. "Any word from house Mormont? They should have been here by now." He asked.

"No, nothing. Rather odd I think. It's not like Lady Lyanna to fail to answer a call to arms. Something must have come up." Said Davos, standing beside Jon.

Jon sighed. "We can't wait for them any longer. Lord Manderly has sent word that the Orlesians have finally made their turn towards the coast, heading into the Bite. They could be making landfall any day now. Anyone else on their way will just have catch up."

"Was there something else?" He asked when he noticed the expectant expression of Davos.

"Yes. I was hoping to discuss your plan to leave me here with Lady Sansa." Davos said.

"That matter ought to be settled by now." Jon said, his voice stern. "You can fight and lead when necessary, but as you yourself have said that's not what you are best at."

"I could still be of use." Davos argued.

"You will be. This isn't me getting you out of my way. This is me putting you to work where I think you will do the most good." The king said.

"I will be needing a thousand and one things done while I am away. Smugglers and merchants bringing us supplies we need, my people kept in high spirits, and I need allies wherever they can be found. I need people to bet on us, and keep betting on us even if we start to look like the losing side. Sansa will do her part of course and I can rely on her to handle the nobility. But she was raised as a lady, and that reflects on what she can and will do. I need someone who knows how to speak to people of common birth and who can speak to unsavory individuals she can't talk to for fear of losing face. And I need someone to convince the reluctant when her methods come short." He explained.

"You have a common sense that a lot of people appreciate, the kind of sense that brought lady Mormont and Daenerys to our side when everyone else would have failed. If we are to win this war such talents will be in high demand." He added with a smile.

Davos sighed, but nonetheless seemed to accept Jon's reasoning. "I just… hate the idea of watching you go to war not knowing if you will ever be back, because you're my king, as well as my friend."

"Well if my army can't keep me safe from harm, I don't think one more blade will make a difference. Not even one as loyal as yours Davos." Jon said.

"I suppose you're right, as always. As it happens there is an actual matter as well, a recent acquaintance I think you should meet. I guess you call him my replacement now that it has been decided I'll stay here."

Jon nodded and followed Davos to another part of the courtyard where a number of new recruits were sitting on the ground, listening to a lecture being given by a man in front of them.

"So this thing in front of you is a fairly typical set of Orlesian military armor." He said, motioning to a straw man dressed in a suit of armor. "Note the padded coat and plate armor protecting the upper torso, the arms and the legs as well as the fully enclosing metal helmet that also protects the neck. Some army disciplines, like skirmishers and archers, eschew the breastplate for reduced weight, while others opt for an even heavier version that adds plates of metal to protect the lower torso as well."

"Don't let the fancy appearance fool you, this is functional and effective armor." He said, rapping his knuckles on the breastplate on the dummy before continuing. "The plate stops blades very well and the padded armor offers decent protection as well. And you might think that the metal mask on the helmet would limit their field of vision, but it does so far less than one might expect. They have lived their lives with such things, they know how to compensate for them. So, if you were fighting this fellow, where would you hit him?"

A hand rose up from the crowd: "Any part where there isn't metal."

The lecturing man nodded. "That's a very good start. The armor is admittedly weaker there, so that's where aim for on average. But in addition to that there are a few weak points I'd like to point out to you. The first one is where coat ends and the leg armor begins. There is a narrow space there not protected by any armor, and there are big veins in the leg. Cut those and a person can bleed to death within minutes. Even if not, a person won't fight as well with a large hole in his leg. Another good point to go for is at the seam where the halves of the coat meet. If you decide to attack there then I advise that you make a stabbing attack just under the metal breastplate for maximum damage. Both of these spots are hard to reach but well worth it if you can land a blow there." He said, motioning at the appropriate parts of the armor as he spoke.

"All right, that is all for now. When you return to your units I want to tell all your buddies what I told you. It could save their lives. It could save your life. You are dismissed." The man finished.

As people began to rise up and leave, Davos cleared his throat and the man turned.

"Ah, Ser Davos. And you must be King Jon. Ser Edmond Brahms, at your service. I was just instructing some of your men on the Orlesians and their equipment." He said upon noticing them.

"I heard. You certainly seem to know what you are talking about. How does one get to know the Orlesians and their military that well?" Jon said.

"By being their neighbor. I'm from Nevarra, Your Grace. And as it is, while there is no official state of war, there are frequent skirmishes along the border we share with Orlais. I have served is some of these conflicts, and through them I have become very familiar with Orlesian forces." Edmond replied.

"You're Nevarran? Then how did you come to be here? The war only started recently, and the Orlesians have taken steps to restrict travel since." Jon asked.

"I happened to be in the area already, seeking a new patron to serve. When I learned that a war had started between you and the Orlesian Empire I extended an offer to Ser Davos, hoping to enter your service. He accepted, employing me as a military advisor." Edmond explained.

"New patrons? What happened to your old patrons?" Jon asked, raising an eyebrow.

Edmond's face darkened somewhat. "Uh… politics is what happened to them. The family I served was involved in a plot to usurp King Markus Pentaghast. One of many such attempts as it happens, since our king is an old man that seems to insist on outliving all of us, which frustrates great many people. I was not involved with the plot myself, but my association with the accused family was nonetheless enough to see me exiled as an accessory. Still, I consider myself lucky. Those more directly involved in the plot were executed for their troubles."

"So you were exiled, and that brought you all the way here?" Jon said. He was unable to keep himself from feeling some unease at the knight's admission. Even if he claimed to not have been directly involved, having been in the service of a house that had turned against their king was cause for some concern. Particularly so because Jon had to take Edmond's word about his involvement in the mess he described.

"Yes. Deserved or not, the status of an exile can be a stain on a man's reputation, and it turns out most nobles don't bother to examine the context of events. Most of them refused to hire me, and those that might hire me…"

"You don't trust." Jon finished for him.

"Precisely. I was hoping that this far away from Thedas I might be able to get a better opportunity to prove myself. Fortunately for me you are not without your own needs." Edmond said.

"Did you know any of this before you accepted him into service?" Jon asked, turning to Davos.

"It did come up in the conversation. But, based on a gut feeling, he seemed honest and decent, so I felt he should be given a chance. And I felt that his field of experience was simply too good to pass up." Davos said.

"So you trust him?" The King asked.

"I do. I don't think we should condemn a good man for serving a bad house." Davos said.

"If there are doubts about my trustworthiness, I am willing to prove myself. If there is a promise to give, an oath to swear or a task to perform, name it and I will do it." Edmond interjected.

Jon considered, then nodded. "I appreciate that. For now I'd like you to help us in this fight in whatever way you can. That will be proof enough, given time."

"I will. And… thank you for the opportunity." Edmond said.

Jon shrugged. "You were right as it happens. We have need of you. We need all the help we can get. But now I must ask to be excused. There is much I must still see to before the army is ready to move out."

It was later on, at sunset, that Jon sought out Ghost. This was after he had met with the lords of his army, after he had done the work that he needed to do, and after he had said the farewells to his family. Now there was only this one last thing to do before he could set out with his army on the night march he had planned to cover as much ground as possible before the Orlesian landfall.

He found his wolf in the courtyard, standing in the open, as if waiting for him. Jon crossed the yard and knelt before him, looking into the wolf's red eyes.

"I need you to stay here boy, keep my family safe. Protect them. Can you do that for me?" He said to the wolf, petting him.

He could have sworn that Ghost nodded before trotting in the direction of the main keep, and Jon knew he had understood. And so he mounted his horse and rode through the gate. After riding the first hundred meters he stopped and turned, spotting Sansa and his son watching him from the battlements. He waved goodbye to them one last time before riding off into the night.

* * *

"Many of your lords and ladies have gathered in the throne room. I think they are expecting a few words from you." Tyrion said to Daenerys, having just entered through the door.

"I will be along in a few moments." She said with a nod. Tyrion bowed and left the room, and Daenerys turned back to the mirror to check that everything was in order with her armor. The armor in question was full plate armor, complete with chainmail in all the joints and weak spots. It had been a gift from Jon on the anniversary of their wedding. The thought made her smile briefly. Leave it to northmen to give heavy armor as an anniversary gift!

The suit came with a longsword made for her hand, although she considered it to be an aspect that was there just for show. By Jon's insistence she had received a few sessions of sword practice from him so she could defend herself if there was an unexpected need. Even so, she had not learned all that well. She had had only a few hours to spare for the training, and that was not enough. She knew the basic strikes and parries, the correct stances, but that was it. She had her doubts that she could hold her own against even an average swordsman for any extended period of time. And by Jon's own admission she had started the training far too late in life to achieve true mastery. Proper swordsmen began their training in childhood, and by the time they were men grown fighting was an instinct, a skill so natural that little to no conscious thought was needed. She still needed to think what she did when wielding a sword, and that was an impediment that stood in her way. At the end of the day she did not think this a serious shortcoming. When she did battle, she did so from dragonback, and there she would have no need for swords.

The metal suit made her feel heavy and awkward, but her small council had assured her that she looked very impressive in it, and looking in the mirror she could not deny the armor had certain appeal. It was Black in color, and on the breastplate was the three headed dragon of the Targaryens, made of red steel.

It was then she remembered that red steel was a product of Thedosian origin. Despite the armor's origin from house Redforge, many aspects of it indicated an outside influence all too familiar to her. The materials, the design practices, the protective runes lining the insides, all were the heritage of Thedas, their legacy. It bore the marks of their way of looking at the world, their essence so to speak. The realization made her feel sad. "Have we nothing of our own left?" She asked herself. "Is it all the work of these strangers we didn't even know existed a decade ago? And if so, have we already lost, conquered by merchant's wares instead of armies? Is this invasion just a way of formalizing what has been done years ago?"

Then she shook her head, driving those thoughts away, angry at herself for allowing herself to lapse into melancholy. This wasn't what her people needed her to be! They needed her fierce, with a fire in her heart and words of encouragement on her lips. They were already war-weary from conflicts past. Without her they would falter, and that would be the end of everything.

Clearing her thoughts for the final time she left her chambers and made her way to the throne room. When she entered the buzz of conversation died in the hall, every eye trained on her. Standing in front of the Iron Throne, she let her eyes move across the hall, past faces she knew well, and others she recognized only barely.

She began to speak:

"Many years ago, when I began the journey to become Queen, I gave a promise to those who were then my people. I promised them that I would keep them safe, that those who would harm them would die screaming. I have not forgotten that promise. Today, that promise belongs to the people of Westeros. To you, my Lords and Ladies."

"I have also not forgotten the oath I swore when I sat down on that throne and took on the burden of leadership." She continued, pointing at the Iron Throne. "The protector of the realm. That is who I promised to be."

She took a pause before continuing, letting her word sink in.

"A great enemy comes for us now, to lay waste to our lands and seize by force what they cannot claim by right. And I, remembering my oaths, will take up arms in our defense. But I am in need of aid. Your aid. I call upon you to stand with me. Together with our northern allies we will turn this enemy back. We will show them what it means to face us, the people of Westeros. Us, who threw down the White Walkers themselves. If their cold grip could not break us, then neither shall this petty tyrant's invasion. My Lords and Ladies… can I count on you?"

Scattered cheers and shouts of acknowledgement replied to her, excitement beginning to build up within the crowd.

"Can I count on you!? Will you stand together!?" She asked, louder, and the hall erupted in cheers as the people in the hall in one voice declared that they would.

And she smiled…


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13; Battle of Landfall;**

**Characters of the chapter**

**Marco **Sergeant in the Tully army

On the shore of Westeros a force of around a thousand Tully soldiers were taking cover at the treeline in front of a stretch of shore. Currently the trees around them were burning and shattering as the Orlesian ships bombarded their positions relentlessly. Normally an enemy fleet that found its intended landing site contested would sail away and land elsewhere, but apparently the Orlesians had different ideas. They had decided to take this landing by force and now were attacking the defending Tullys with every piece of artillery they had to soften the defenders up for when the Orlesian soldiers touched the shore. The bombardment aside, the Orlesian intention to attack was all well and good as far as the Tully soldiers were concerned. This way they could cause casualties disproportionate to their numbers before retreating to safety, leaving the invader that much weaker for daring to come here.

A soldier named Marco grit his teeth as one projectile struck the tree above him, flaming debris scattering everywhere. Somewhere far away he could hear someone laughing maniacally, most likely out of stress more than anything. Marco found himself hoping that he could do something comparable, to just laugh in the face of danger. This was already one of the most frightening experiences in his life, made all the more so because there was nothing he could do except cower and hope death would not come to claim him. He clutched his bow tighter to his chest and offered a silent prayer to the gods, asking for the mercy of being allowed to live. He was not typically a religious man, but paradoxically he felt he needed the gods at times like this, when it felt that the gods had deserted them altogether.

The silence, when it fell, was sudden and absolute. One moment the air was full of the sound of violent impacts, the next there was no sound except the breathing of men and the soft crackle of flames here and there. Marco stood up, takin a look at what the enemy ships were up to now. He saw a large number of them now approaching the shore, each one full of troops, while the larger ships were holding their positions further away.

"Stand up. Form up." He commanded the soldiers under his command, and all around him men picked themselves up from the ground and took their place in a formation two ranks deep as other sergeants were repeating his orders all along the line.

"Set bowstrings." he gave his next command, and his men began to make their bows ready to fire. Marco glanced at the Orlesian ships again, noting that the first of them had almost touched the shore.

"Nock arrows!" he heard the voice of his commander from somewhere to his right. "Nock arrows!" He shouted placing an arrow to his bowstring, hearing moments later the command being repeated by someone to his left.

The first ships reached the shore, ramps were lowered and throngs of soldiers began disgorging onto the shore.

"Draw!" Marco shouted, feeling feathers brush against his cheek, lifting the tip of the arrow to point towards the sky.

"Loose!" Came the order from their commander, and a thousand arrows rose to the air as one. They fell on the enemy like rain, and in moments the shore was littered with corpses in blue coats of padded armor. Those that survived took shelter behind their shields and sought to gather their ranks into ordered formations, while scattered groups of enemy archers began to return fire, sending stray arrows their way. A few of his soldiers fell, their bodies pierced, but those that lived continued their attack regardless. The first volley of arrows had not even finished falling when they sent another cloud of arrows after it. Longbowmen like they were able to keep three arrows in the air while firing over long distances. At this moment they were closer to the enemy, so this feat was not possible, but with proximity came greater effects as well, each volley leaving more enemy fallen on the sand. Volley after volley the Tully's fired to the relentless rhythm of "Nock, draw, loose!"

"Empty your quivers." Marco thought. "Empty your quivers, and we go." That had been the order that had been given before the battle had begun, and it was the thought that passed through his mind with the every arrow he fired. One more and one more and one more…

With the unrelenting rain of arrows the Orlesians were struggling to establish a foothold, their fallen beginning to carpet the ground. Marco felt a sense of grim satisfaction at the sight, accompanied by a feeling of encouragement that the battle was going in their favor. Of course they could not destroy the entire Orlesian force, but they were causing them some serious losses, making it that much easier to beat back this invasion in battles to come.

"You came all this way, from your homes to this distant shore where you do not belong." He thought. "Yet the minute your feet touched this soil you died. This land curses you, you who came here blades in hand, intent upon causing harm, intent upon conquest. You should leave now, leave and never return. Otherwise this place shall kill you all, one by one."

It was at that moment that he saw movement on one of the ships that had yet to make it to shore. A man stood up on the boat and pointed a staff at them. To Marco's astonishment a bolt of fire erupted from his staff, flashed across the intervening distance and exploded amidst his people, killing a good dozen of them at once. Marco gasped at the sight and took a step back. Around him the archer line was being attacked in similar manner, with balls of fire, lightning and in one place a white cloud that turned men to ice statues.

"What? What kind of hellweapons are these?" He thought, trying to contain the fear in his mind. He, like many others, had heard the rumors speaking of the Thedosians with queer and potent weapons of war, stories of people with unnatural abilities, able to cause death and destruction by calling upon the powers of the elements. But he knew full well the nature of rumors, how they moved from place to place, growing more outlandish with each time the stories were told. That knowledge had made the rumors easy to dismiss. Until this very moments they had been just that: stories, invented by people who wanted to appear scarier than they actually were. It was like when priests claimed that they could work miracles through their gods. Yet now it seemed that those rumors had come to life, and they were facing individuals with powers far too close to what he would expect from gods to his liking.

"How can we fight that? How can we fight people in command of such powers?" He wondered in his mind, his confidence in victory gone. He glanced around himself, noticing that his soldiers had stopped firing, clearly as shaken as he was. "Keep shooting! Give them everything we've got!" He shouted to them, placing a new arrow to his bow, deciding to set aside his concerns. His troops began to respond to his command, sending fresh arrows against the Orlesians, who had already taken advantage of the brief respite to gather their ranks. "Resume firing!" He bellowed, and other sergeants took up his call, urging their charges to continue fighting the enemy. "Empty your quivers, and we go." Marco repeated in his mind.

Just then a horn sounded to Marco's right, and looking in the direction of the noise he saw a column of cavalry emerge to the beach at the flanks of the Tully force, the hooves of horses churning the sand. Another horn answered the first one moments later, followed by a second column of riders from the opposite side.

Briefly Marco was confused, unsure of what was happening or who these newcomers were. Then he saw the banner fluttering at the head of the column: A black hourglass on a field of bright yellow. With that sight hope leapt in his heart. He recognized the sigil as belonging to the upstart house Kronos. They had not expected to see this house here, particularly since relations had in the past been strained between their house and house Kronos. Yet now they were here, riding to their aid as comrades in arms. Together they would push the invasion back to the sea. A huge cheer arose from the Tully's, the soldiers greeting the arriving knights.

Marco's smile died on his lips when the cavalry columns made a sharp turn and smashed into the Tully flanks and the cheers turned to shouts of horror. Almost at once their flanks were thrown to disarray and began to disintegrate, some soldiers routing, while others turned to engage the horsemen, only for most of them to be cut down immediately for their audacity. His confusion returned with a vengeance, coupled with a dose of panic. Briefly he wondered if there had been some king of mistake, that house Kronos had mistaken them for the enemy. Then more horns sounded and more cavalry appeared directly behind them, beginning to smash into the Tullys all along the line, splitting their force to several segments. That was when he knew the truth. This was no accident, it was far too coordinated for that, far too certain and single-minded in their intent. With that knowledge anger began to burn in his chest like fire.

"Defend yourselves!" He yelled to his people, still seething. Turning around to face the enemy and saw an enemy knight charging toward him at full tilt. He placed another arrow to his bow, aimed quickly and fired. He hit the knight where his helmet met his breastplate. His horse rode on, with him still dangling from the saddle, gurgling as he went. He quickly made ready to fire again, aiming for another knight. Noting that this one was even more heavily armored than the first one, he instead chose to fire at the horse. The horse went over screaming, throwing its rider. Marco thought to shoot the knight while he was down only to realize that he had run out of arrows. Instead he drew his sword and strode to where the knight lay on his back, unable to stand up in his heavy plate. Just before Marco plunged his sword through the eyeslit of his helmet the knight tried to say something but he did not care to hear it.

With no new enemy immediately attacking him he had a moment to consider the situation. He realized that he had now fired all his arrows as had most of his people. By the orders he had given he could now leave. Sure, some of his soldiers still had arrows left, but what of it? This situation had now developed far beyond their original orders. Briefly he considered ordering a retreat, but he realized that between House Kronos cavalry and the Orlesians most of them would not be making it.

He looked at his troops, who were waiting for him to tell them what to do now. "Those of you who wish to go, go. The rest of you, follow me!" he told them, drawing his sword.

"For Westeros!" He roared with all his strength and charged toward the Orlesians. A few of his soldiers turned around and headed in the opposite direction, but the rest followed him.

That was how he found himself in the waterline, straddling the body of an enemy he had managed to push into the water. His opponent struggled in his grip, trying to lift his head above the water but Marco kept him down, while at the same time he tried to align his sword to strike. Eventually he managed to get it to a good position and plunged it down and through his enemy. His foe's struggles ceased and as he withdrew his blade, a gush of red blossomed in the water. Marco picked himself up, wiped his brow and looked around himself. All around him his soldiers were fighting and dying, the lucky ones managing to take down an Orlesian before they died. Where the rest of the Tully force were, he was not entirely certain. Considering all that he had done quite well. He had never considered himself to be much of a swordsman but he had managed to kill several enemy soldiers. Yet with every boat that made it to the shore more of the enemy entered the fray, overwhelming them that much more.

He found himself disturbed by the enemy he was now seeing face to face, so to speak. The Orlesian soldiers snarled and cursed and shouted like any other fighter in battle, but the steel masks they wore over their faces betrayed no emotion. Yet for all that he hated the troops of House Kronos more at this moment. Currently their cavalrymen were riding up and down the shore, slaughtering Tullys as they went. Seeing this he felt angry bile rise in his throat yet again. The King and the Queen would punish house Kronos for this treachery, of that he was certain. Whether he would live long enough to see it was another matter entirely.

Marco tried to charge into one of the boats but was driven back by the pikemen it carried. And then he found himself surrounded by half dozen Orlesians at once. He swung wildly, trying to keep them away from him, even managing to kill one that came too close. Then a pike was pushed to his flank and moments later another through his shoulder, causing his sword to drop. He fell to his knees, then an arm wrapped around his throat from behind and a sword pierced his body. Deciding that he was as good as dead, the Orlesians went on their way. All strength having left his body, Marco crawled forward as another Orlesian boat made landfall just near him. With blurry eyes he saw how a warrior jumped over the side, feet landing in the water with a splash. The warrior was set upon at once by two soldiers of house Tully. The warrior drew a sword, slashing at the soldiers with the same motion. The moment the sword left its scabbard it ignited with a golden light too bright to look upon. It was like someone had taken a piece of the sun and hammered it into a weapon. The weapons of the Tully soldiers rose to meet it, but the sword simply cut through them like the opposing blades were made of butter, droplets of molten metal spraying from the point of contact. That single swing cut down both soldiers and the warrior charged forward in search of new enemies to fight.

"What in the hells, are we fighting swords made of bloody sunlight too? That ain't fair…" Marco thought before collapsing to his side on the sand. That was where he died, bleeding out through his wounds, water lapping against his body. One by one the Tully soldiers who remained fighting were cut down by Orlesian soldiers and the Knights of house Kronos until none remained on the field. The warrior with the glowing sword went on to slay a good number of enemies before the battle's conclusion. With the battle finished more ships continued to make landfall, beginning to offload supplies and equipment along with more troops.

And so the invasion of Westeros had begun in earnest.


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14; A night of betrayals;**

**Characters of the chapter**

**Agatha, **Bard of Orlais

**Alerie, **Bard of Orlais

**Belinda Blackwater, **Lady of Highgarden, wife of lord Bronn, formerly Belinda Windcliff from the Anderfels

**Bronn Blackwater, **Lord of Highgarden, Lord Paramount of the Reach

**Claudette, **Bard of Orlais

**Edmure Tully **Lord of Riverrun , Lord Paramount of the Riverlands, head of house Tully

**Genna,** Bard of Orlais

**Haddon, **Bard of Orlais

**Ser Kenton, **Knight in the service of House Kronos

**Stiletto, **Bard of Orlais

**Tolleyn, **Bard of Orlais

**Cursive/Bold text in the chapter is Orlesian**

**Riverrun, the Riverlands…**

Edumre Tully was standing in the main hall of his castle, staring out the window as he awaited word on the army he had ordered assembled. He was fully prepared for war, dressed in his scalemail armor, a longsword at his belt. Near the door two of his soldiers were standing watch and a servant girl of some twenty years of age was washing the floors with a bucket of water and a rag, other than that he was alone.

As he looked at the sunset through the windows, his mind was drawn back to the last war he had participated in and the events that had occurred since. His last war had been the War of the Five Kings. There he had botched things royally, more than once, even he could not deny it.

His first failure had been a rash action that had cost King Robb a victory he had hoped to achieve, and desperately needed soldiers besides. Then had come the atrocity of the Red Wedding, where he had been taken captive, tearing him away from a happy marriage he had been looking forward to. Of course he had held up his marriage with Roslin Frey after the war, and their love was still there, but past events ensured that their every interaction was permeated with hidden sorrows and regrets. His married life was now an endless litany of awkwardness.

His second failure had come when he had caved in to the threats made by Jaime Lannister. In an effort to protect his family he had surrendered Riverrun to their enemies which had inadvertently resulted in the death of his uncle. Afterwards back to the cells he had been sent. Later on all the men of house Frey had gone and died at once at a night of feasting. Poison, so he was led to believe, though he had not learned who had accomplished such, or how. The women of house Frey would not answer his questions, except to say: "The north remembers. Winter came for house Frey."

Knowing not what else to do with him, the Frey women had set him loose. He had sought to return to his home, only to discover a garrison of Frey soldiers, men-at-arms who refused to believe that the house they served had been cast down and destroyed. He had thought to seek out King Jon and Queen Daenerys and ask them for help in retaking the ancestral home of his family, but he had lacked the means to reach them, having no other possessions other than the clothes he wore. He had found a family of farmers that still remembered the Tullys kindly. There he had lived and worked for a time, even thinking about setting aside his life as a lord and living out the remainder of his days as a field hand. That had been until he had heard a rumor that Queen Daenerys, freshly seated on the Iron Throne, had commanded Jaime Lannister to seize Riverrun for the Crown as proof of his new loyalties.

Edmure had sought Ser Jaime out, and the two had met once again, discovering each other to be changed men. Edmure had aided the Lannister in overcoming Riverrun's defenses, and in return Jaime had appointed him the commander of the castle's garrison, a lord again in all but name. He had seen to it that the family that had sheltered him had been well rewarded for their service, and had settled in his role as a commander of the Queen's soldiers stationed at Riverrun.

Edmure had missed the Second War for the Dawn and the Battle of Nightfall, but he had been more than happy to host the King and the Queen when the time had come to redraw the map of Westeros. His castle made a perfect place for such talks located as it was nearly at the middle of the Seven Kingdoms and while the castle had been ostensibly held by the Queen's troops, Riverrun had always had strong ties to the North, particularly to the Starks of Winterfell. In the great divide that had followed his castle had ended up on the Queen's side of the kingdoms. As thanks for his assistance in facilitating the negotiations, the Queen had restored his lordship in truth, naming him the Lord Paramount of the Riverlands. Edmure had discovered the office much changed from what it had meant in the past. Now all the lords made their oath of fealty directly to the Queen, which meant he only received taxes and levies from lands his family was assigned to control as determined by the Queen's hand, Lord Tyrion. As Lord Paramount he could maintain a host of up to three thousand men in the Riverlands and only the Riverlands, *for the maintenance of law and order*, which admittedly was more than many lesser houses could hope to manage on their own. Beyond that he could only form an army if the Queen directed him to do so. Despite the changes imposed he had resolved to serve his new Queen loyally, grateful to her for all she had returned to him.

Of course fate would have it that things had quickly begun to go wrong for him again. House Kronos emerged all around him, rising from the brief era of post war chaos. He had rallied what support he could and marched against house Kronos, only to be soundly beaten at the Battle of the Spring Fields, losing all his lands except Riverrun itself. Only the intervention of the Queen had kept his house from being ousted from lordship a second time, forcing a truce and restoring a portion of the Riverlands to his control. "I let her down that day." Edmure thought bitterly. "She trusted me to hold the Riverlands and I could not do it. Because of my failure, she had to make an unpleasant decision that caused tension between her and House Kronos."

Even after the intervention of the Queen house Kronos had remained and sometime later the son of Lord Kronos had decided to form his own house, taking even more of the Riverlands away from him. This time he had grudgingly allowed the affront to stand, knowing full well he lacked the resources to force the issue.

"This time I won't botch things. I'll do everything right this time, act with precision and follow my commands exactly. This time _will _be different." He vowed to himself.

With house Kronos and house Blackstar controlling the bulk of the Riverlands, Edmure had been concerned that he would be unable to fulfill the duties expected of a Lord Paramount. To his immense relief most of the houses in the Rivelands seemed to be responding to his summons and would soon rally to his side. A small force of his troops was already in position to contest the landfall of the Orlesians, which would buy time to finish assembling his army and join with forces of the Queen that had been training in the Riverlands. He was confident that houses Kronos and Blackstar could be convinced to add their strength to his as well. Foreign invaders were a threat to everyone, after all. Even they had to see that. He for one would do his utmost to set his local rivalries aside until the Orlesians had been beaten back and the realm was safe once again. Who knows, maybe there would even be a chance for reconciliation between him and the upstart houses. Few things built lasting connections between former enemies like fighting side by side in a war after all.

His musings were interrupted by the sight of his Maester coming into the hall. "My lord, there have been sightings of several hundred knights of house Kronos on the road, riding hard for Riverrun." said the Maester.

Edmure frowned. This was rather odd. There had been no alliance with house Kronos as of yet, and in any case his army was assembling away from Riverrun, so there was no reason for a force of knights this size to be coming here. If they wished to treat with him, an emissary with a few dozen escorts would have sufficed.

"Let's be careful about this. Have the men raise the drawbridge and post more troops on the walls. We'll find out the intentions of house Kronos when they get here. And send a raven for the Queen. I have a feeling this should be reported." He decided.

The Maester nodded, turned to follow his orders, then keeled over, a throwing knife sticking from the back of his skull.

Edmure blinked, taking a moment to process what had happened.

"Sorry old man, can't have you doing that." Said the servant girl who had thrown the knife before plunging her hands into her bucket and producing two longer daggers from the dirty water.

"What in the name of…" said one of the guards, fumbling for his sword, only for his fellow guardsman to plunge his sword into his back. Then this traitorous guardsman made to attack the man who was supposed to be his lord, but Edmure was ready for him, pushing his sword aside and cutting him down.

The servant girl that was no servant girl eyed the dead traitor distastefully. "Idiot." she commented dryly. She stretched her neck and gave the daggers in her hands a few spins just to show off. "Will milord care for a dance?" she asked with a suddenly acquired Orlesian accent, giving a mock curtsey.

"By all means, if you are so eager to throw your life away." Edmure replied, his longsword at the ready. "But if you throw down your weapons and yield to me now, I promise you mercy for attacking me in my home."

"I need no mercy from a fish-man!" The woman hissed.

The two circled each other warily, and even that brief moment was enough to impress Edmure: Her poise was perfect, her movements graceful and precise. The easy flow with which she moved would have been hard to mimic by even the most skilled knight of Westeros, telltale signs of a killer with a lifelong training completely alien to your average fighter. This was a very dangerous opponent.

The Orlesian moved first, exploding to action with a speed that Edmure would have thought impossible. Her first two attacks he managed to block, barely. The third jabbed at his face, tracing a thin red line on his left cheek. Then they parted again, the woman grinning savagely, her eyes afire. Edmure attacked next, only to have the Orlesian woman doge three of his blows before ducking under the fourth to slice at an unprotected area on his leg just above the knee. She sidestepped his thrust while a dagger went seeking under a shoulder pad, slicing open a strap. The momentum of his thrust carrying him forward, she followed this up with a slash across his back, a blow which thankfully was deflected by his armor.

It was around this point that Edmure realized he was losing. The speed of his opponent was incredible, and though her attacks were light, each success weakened him a little bit more.

The woman attacked him with her left hand dagger, an attack that he managed to block. Too late he realized her trick as she used the crossguard of her dagger to pin his sword in place as she attacked him with her other dagger. He managed to catch her striking arm by grabbing her wrist, but not before an inch of her blade sunk to his hip. Edmure twisted her arm and made her drop the dagger she had struck him with. The he slammed his head to her face, hard enough to knock her back. She turned her fall into a backward roll, then took the sword on one of the dead guards to replace the dagger she had lost.

Making a quick decision, Edmure kicked the bucket of water towards her. Instinctively her arms rose to block the bucket flying at her face, the water blinding her for the briefest of moments. It was all Edmure needed. Putting all his strength behind the blow, he cut her across the mouth. His strike split her pretty head in half, the top half falling off before the rest of her collapsed to the ground with a loud thump, blood beginning to gush from her wound. With his opponent dead, Edmure became aware of the sounds of battle coming from beyond the door of the main hall. "The castle is under attack." He realized. He ran from the hall to go into the rookery to send a raven to warn the queen of what had happened here.

Running through the corridors, he came across bodies of the fallen, those of his guards and those of the castle staff. He had no way to know which ones were his and which ones belonged to these infiltrators and traitors, there was nothing to his eye that set them apart. "How many might there be? How did they get here?" He wondered.

As he ran, he began to feel feverish. His pace slowed, his thoughts became foggy, his wounds burned like they were on fire. "What is wrong with me?" he wondered as his condition continued to worsen. He fought through the discomfort he was feeling, continuing to stumble forward, forcing himself up the stairs of the Maester's tower, thinking only of how he had to get word out no matter the cost.

As he entered through the door to the Maester's chambers, he found two more bodies just on the other side of the door: One was a guard with a crossbow, another a female elf in commoner's clothing, both drenched head to toe in blood. Knowing there was nothing he could do for the dead, he walked past them, all but collapsing against the table where the raven scrolls were. With shaky hands he took one of the scrolls, a quill to his other hand and began to scrawl the words on paper. Then he paused: "Wait, since when there were elves in his castle?"

Then he heard a click and a thrum behind him and felt a sharp pain between his shoulder blades. He glanced down, seeing a bolt piercing his chest. He turned around and and saw the elf he had thought dead standing near the door, calmly reloading the crossbow in her hands. Without saying a word she finished reloading, took aim and put another bolt through his chest. With a final sigh Edmure slid down and onto his back, his head under the table, where he died, his last thoughts being about his many mistakes and the amends he never got to make.

The elf reloaded her weapon, then heard running steps and the door behind her opening and pointed the crossbow at the noise.

"_**Easy Alerie, it's only me."**_ Said a man with lean features and short black hair as he emerged through the door, holding up his hands. Like the elf he was dressed in servants clothing but was also carrying a curved longsword and a dagger on his belt. The man frowned as he saw her: "_**You… you're covered in blood…"**_

"_**Not mine. His."**_ The elf answered nonchalantly, giving the dead guard small nudge with her shoe. _**"Made playing dead a lot more convincing."**_

"_**Ew… just ew."**_ the man commented, grimacing.

"_**Maker, don't be so melodramatic Haddon, we're not attending a party."**_ Alerie replied, rolling her eyes.

Haddon glanced at the body of Edmure, seeing the bolts protruding from him, then the crossbow in Alerie's hand. _**"That's the lord of the castle. You just… shot him? Are you insane?"**_

"_**He was going to send out an alert. I couldn't let that happen."**_ Aleria said defensively. _**"Besides if I know Genna he was dead already. That girl always likes to poison her daggers."**_

Haddon stared at Alerie for a moment in disbelief. _**"Is there some part of *capture alive* that you two didn't get?"**_

"_**The precise wording was *captured alive if possible*."**_ Alerie corrected. "_**It was not possible. Anyway, it's done now, nothing anyone can do about it."**_

"_**Yeah, I'm not sure if Agatha will be as calm and stoic about that. She won't be happy."**_ Haddon commented.

"_**I'll deal with that sour bat when that time comes. No need for you to lose any sleep over it. You didn't do anything wrong."**_ The elf replied.

"_**It's not my funeral pyre that's for sure."**_ Haddon agreed. "_**But it was stupid of you anyhow and I'm partnered with the two of you who seemingly can't get a job done without trying to slaughter everything in sight. Same bloody thing every time…"**_

"_**If you're referring to that Lydes job, that happened precisely once, and you've never let it drop**_." The elf argued.

"_**Twice now."**_ Haddon responded. _**"And where is Genna by the way? I want to rant at her too. Not fair for you to get all the shouting."**_

"_**Well she was supposed to secure the Lord, right? If he is here and she is not we can guess what happened."**_ Alerie replied.

"_**Well aint that just perfect."**_ Haddon exclaimed, annoyed.

"_**Nothing to be done about it now. Come on, we still have a battle to win here."**_ She said and left. Haddon followed in her footsteps after one last look on lord Edmure.

They emerged to the battlements of Riverrun, to the sights and sounds of a chaotic battle. In the courtyard below them more of their fellow bards were fighting the Tully loyalists using their superior skill to overcome the greater numbers of the enemy. Fighting alongside the bards were a number of bribed guards, a band of blue tied around the arm of each one. Alerie and Haddon ran to a barrel where they had stashed equipment beforehand. Alerie reached into the barrel and pulled out a leather bag which she handed to Haddon. Then she took out her custom made crossbow to replace the inferior one of the dead guard, along with a full quiver of bolts. The crossbow was a light one, sacrificing penetrating power for faster reloading and precision. She loaded the weapon, took careful aim and dropped an enemy archer on the opposite battlements with her opening shot. She reloaded, aimed and fired, reloaded, aimed and fired, taking out enemies with unerring accuracy. Meanwhile Haddon ran along the wall dropping silvery globes as he went. As they struck the ground they shattered, generating thick smoke that blinded the guards in the courtyard, whether rebel or loyal. The Orlesian bards on the other hand, having been taught to adapt to changing circumstances, soon recovered and turned the situation to their advantage. In moments the battle in the courtyard was resolved, the Tully loyalists overwhelmed.

Seeing that the fight was concluded, Alerie and Haddon found a way down to the courtyard where the found the Leader of this group of bards: Agatha, a woman with dark hair and equally dark eyes, still beautiful in her way although small wrinkles had started forming in the corners of her eyes. _**"So, Lord Edmure?"**_ she asked the two of when she saw them. As her response she got only embarrassed expressions, the two bards suddenly finding their feet extremely interesting.

Agatha looked surprised at first, then her expression turned to one of annoyance. "_**What happened?"**_ she asked with a seething voice.

"_**He was going to send a warning out. He left me no choice!" **_Alerie spoke up.

"_**I bet he did. I bet he left you plenty of choices, and you were just too damn impatient to look for them." **_Agatha countered. _**"I knew I gave you the wrong job." **_she continued, pinching the bridge of her nose._** "And can you blame me? Simple locate and secure mission, anyone should be able to handle it. Instead I get this. Are you thick heads good for anything except straight up combat? Are you bards of just street thugs? Discipline! Subtlety! Discretion! How many times must I remind you of this?" **_She scolded them.

"_**Where's Genna?" **_She asked suddenly.

"_**Dead, we think." **_Haddon responded.

"_**Think!?" **_Agatha asked.

"_**She never showed up." **_Haddon explained.

Agatha considered the news for a moment. _**"Well if she's gone then that's payment enough for her mistakes, as I'm sure she had a hand in this too. As for you two, this fuckup is coming out of your pay, you hear?"**_ she said then.

"_**I didn't do anything!" **_Haddon tried to protest_**.**_

"_**You're a team! If you were the responsible one of the trio, you should have kept the others on a shorter leash. And it was you who convinced me that you could handle this. You couldn't, and thanks to that were now short a lord. That's on you." **_Agatha replied. _**"Go check on Genna. Confirm whether she's alive or dead. Take down enemy stragglers you come across. Cleanup duty is everything I can trust you with." **_She ordered.

The two nodded and left quickly, eager to get away from the situation. _**"If that is you *dealing* with Agatha, then knock it off. It's making me poorer by the minute." **_Haddon said to Alerie as they walked away.

"_**Yeah, sorry. I had no idea she was going to do that." **_Alerie apologized.

"_**That's the truth of it. Just like I didn't know you'd make such a mess of this." **_Haddon replied.

As they left Agatha continued to manage the situation as it was. _**"Where is the woman? The Lady Roslin?" **_She asked.

"_**She and her boy are holed up in the cellars, along with a few surviving guards. They refuse to come out no matter what we've said." **_answered one of her bards.

"_**Fish them out of there, even if you have to use actual fishhooks to do it. But take them alive at all costs. No more mistakes." **_Agatha ordered.

"My Lady, riders approaching, House Kronos!" Shouted one of the rebel guards atop the gate.

"Open the gates, let them in!"Agatha shouted back. "Time to face the music with our allies." She thought to herself.

The gates opened and several hundred knights in full armor poured into the courtyard, their banners bearing a black hourglass on a field of bright yellow.

"Welcome my good sers, welcome! Welcome to Riverrun." She greeted them.

"What is the situation here?" Asked the commander of this force of knights, called Ser Kenton, ignoring the greeting altogether. His question had been a simple one, if blunt, however his tone revealed his loathing. "Clearly this one is uncomfortable with the idea of shadow agents like the bards." Agatha thought. "Or maybe it's about seeing a woman fighting and in command. Or maybe both of those."

"Under control, Ser." Agatha answered his question. "The last pockets of resistance are being dealt with as we speak. I expect total control of the castle grounds very shortly."

"Lord Edmure, where is he? I want him brought to me." The knight said next.

"Unfortunately there has been a complication. He was killed." She replied.

"Killed?" Ser Kenton repeated, shocked. "You fools! How could you let this happen? He was supposed to be our hostage!"

"I am aware of that, but mistakes were made. Rest assured the ones responsible have been disciplined." She said, cursing in her mind the direction where the conversation was being taken.

"Have they been shortened by a head?" He asked "Anything less seems deficient punishment for botching matters so badly."

Agatha bit her lip, then said: "Look, I don't tell you what to do with your people, so I'd rather you didn't tell me what to do with mine. Lady Roslin Tully and their son Hoster are still alive."

"Those two are not nearly as valuable as the Lord would have been. Where are they?" The knight continued to snap at her.

"Holed up in the cellars. We are working to get to them." She answered.

"Well, since you evidently managed to mishandle this situation already, we'll join your efforts, so that everything else goes smoothly today." He said, dismounting and drawing his sword before storming off in the direction of the cellars.

"_**Fucking Westerosi savages in their tin can suits…"**_ Aghatha muttered. She then turned to her people: _**"Bards, with me! **_ _**Let's get this done…"**_

* * *

**The Bloody Gate, the Vale…**

The bloody gate was in the state it usually was, the gate closed and soldiers on watch on the cliffs above the road leading to the gate. One of these soldiers, named Tolleyn, kept glancing at a mountainside in the distance. Eventually he saw what he had been expecting, a flash of light, coming from a mirror reflecting the light of the setting sun. Twice it flashed, then a pause, then two flashes again.

"I wonder what kind of weather we will have tomorrow?" He said aloud.

"I think the sun will be shining very brightly, for many days to come." Answered another guard, completing the code-phrase, following this up with plunging his spear into the throat of the man next to him. At that exact same moments one half of the guards turned on the other half, shooting them with bows or slaying them with melee weapons. In less than half a minute the battle for the Bloody gate was concluded.

"Good." Tolleyn nodded, pleased with the efficiency of his fellows. Then he opened a chest at his feet. "Alright, which ones of you wanted to be paid at this point?" He asked. A number of hands rose, and he tossed a small pouch of coins to each of them. "There you go. Now get out of here. And a free piece of advice: Avoid the roads. You are still in Vale uniform, and if our allies see that they won't ask questions before running you through.

Those who had been paid left, while those who remained opened the bloody gate. Just as the sun set fully, a force of riders appeared bearing as their sigil a black, eight pointed star on a field of pure white. The riders rode straight on through heading into the Vale.

"Didn't even stop to say hi." Tolleyn mused as he watched them ride.

* * *

**The Eyrie, moments later…**

Claudette felt the mouth of a man clamp on hers, the Vale soldier doing the kissing pressing her against the wall, their hands crawling over each other. When she heard footsteps she opened an eyelid to see who it was. The soldier with his less acute hearing heard nothing, particularly as he was busy fondling her. In the hall there was now a bald man she knew only by the name of Stiletto, since he had never given her another name, giving her a nod. She responded with a wink to indicate she had understood. Then, continuing to kiss the soldier, she moved her hand down, as if to lift up her skirt, but instead producing a slender dagger from inside her boot. She struck him hard between the ribs, hard enough to drive the air from his lungs so he could not scream, the enchanted dagger easily piercing the plate armor he wore. She pulled her blade free and sunk it between his legs, savoring the hurt and betrayed look on his face. "Sorry, I thought those were your brains." She mocked before freeing her blade again and slashing open his throat.

After the soldier collapsed she turned her eyes to look at the other bard, noting the bloody dagger in his hands. "You got the Lord?" She asked in a calm voice, like she was talking about the weather.

"Uh-huh." Stiletto said with a nod.

"Alright then. Let's get to work on the rest of them." She said.

She stepped over the body of the soldier and walked to Stiletto, who wordlessly handed her a sack and a set of keys. She accepted both with a nod, and they headed towards the barracks of the guards. When they got there they went their separate ways, Stiletto heading to one area of the barracks, she to another. When she reached a closed heavy door she stopped, pressing her ear against the door, smiling as she heard snores coming from the far side. Taking out her keys she unlocked the door slowly, soundlessly, cautiously opening it partway. Next from the sack she took out a glass vial filled with milk-white liquid. She tossed the vial into the room, having just enough time to see the shattering of the vial and the eruption of a white mist before she quickly closed the door and locked it up again. She heard muffled cries of pain coming from the room and fists thumping at the door before silence fell. She briskly moved to the next door, behind which more soldiers were sleeping. The more she could kill before the alarm was sounded the more likely they were to succeed in taking over the castle...

* * *

**Highgarden, the Reach…**

Bronn, these days a Lord of House Blackwater had sat down for one last supper with his wife before heading out to war, with only two servants in attendance. After Queen Daenerys had secured her throne, he had seen appropriate to remind Tyrion and his brother of the debt they both owed him. As a result they had, through great effort, convinced the Queen to grant him the empty castle of Highgarden, along with the lordship that came with it, appointing him the Lord Paramount of the Reach. Of course lordship had brought its own headaches, starting with his inexperience in actually managing the lands he had won. When he had finally found a suitable wife from a small and declining family known as the Windcliffs out from the Anderfells (The only noble family within the known world willing to consider a marriage with a sellsword-turned-lord it seemed), the situation had improved significantly. Belinda had proven to be every inch a Woman of the Anderfels: a headstrong, fiery woman, very able to stomach Bronn and his mercenary ways. She had made it clear early on that she would not agree to be a meek wife lurking on the sidelines, like the Westerosi noblewomen, and so they had negotiated themselves an arrangement. She now managed the household and the finances of their Lands, while Bronn trained the troops and led the army, the part he actually knew. The arrangement had worked for the best: his wife had shown the Anderfelian tendency of total commitment, proving to be adept as an administrator as well as a wife and a lover, managing governance with systematic and tireless efficiency while filling their nights with passion. All in all he was very happy with the woman he had managed to find for himself.

"You will leave soon?" She asked of him.

"In the morning." He confirmed, as he was filling his plate. "All the preparations for leaving are complete of course, but one more night shouldn't matter."

"Aye, probably not." She agreed. "And I think it most fortunate. I should give the love of my life a proper goodbye after all." she said, giving a seducing smile.

"And when you return, you shall find your home waiting for you." She continued. "You on your part better remember to come back from the wars, my Lord."

"As my Lady commands then." He said. Then he raised his cup. "A toast, to good fortune in the war and a happy return home."

"To that then." she said, raising her own cup.

Before either of them could drink the door to the hall was flung open and a guard rushed into the hall, shouting:

"MY LORD, WE ARE UNDER ATTACK, WE-" Was all he had time to shout before one of the servants took out a dagger and stabbed him.

"What the-?" Bronn breathed as he stood up, his instincts kicking in. Fortunately he still had the tendency to bring his weapons to wherever he went, so he was able to draw out his dagger and kill the attacking servant. He turned around and saw that the other servant had also drawn a dagger and had tried to attack his wife. Belinda had stabbed a table knife through her enemy's eye, causing him to collapse against the table, a red stain growing on the white tablecloth.

"A table knife?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It was the first thing at hand." She shrugged.

"You do realize that stain is never coming out, right?" he asked, eyeing the red splotch disapprovingly.

"Then we will buy another one. I know we can afford one." She said dismissively.

"Fair enough." He said. "But this poor bastard of a guard barged in screaming about attackers in the castle before being killed. There must be more of these fuckers in the castle."

"Yep, and by the looks of things busily trying to take over our home. We need to throw them out." She said, walking to the dead guard and taking his sword.

"Are you sure you know how to use that?" He asked when he saw her take the sword.

"Well enough. Even Thedosian noblewomen can get weapons instruction, remember? Don't let it rankle your sensibilities, you're still likely better than me. And no, I won't agree to huddle in a corner while you risk your life."

"Oh I already know better than to try that line with you. Just… be careful. I'd hate to see anything happen to you.

"Agreed. Same to you love." she said.

Bronn reached out with his hand to take a quick bite out of their untouched supper before he would head out. He didn't feel like fighting with an empty stomach.

"I wouldn't." Belinda warned. "There is a good chance that's all poisoned. It's probably what these assassins intended to use to kill us until that guard ruined everything."

"Fucking hells." Bronn said, exasperated.

"Fully agreed, but let's complain about it later. Now, are you coming?" she said before she ran out through the doors, shouting a warning: "CASTLE TO ARMS! TO ARMS! FOES IN THE CASTLE! REPEL THE ENEMY! TO ARMS! TO ARMS!"

Bronn could not help but smile. "My, what a woman." he said before drawing his own sword and running after her to destroy these invaders that had dared to attack them in their home.


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15; Dire News;**

**Characters of the chapter:**

**Daenerys Targaryen, **The Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains, Queen of the of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men of the South, Queen of the South Kingdom of the Twin kingdoms and Protector of the Realm

**Davos Seaworth **Knight of Westeros, Advisor to King Jon

**Derek Cobbler, **Kirkwall ambassador to the South Kingdom of the Twin Kingdoms

**Edmond Brahms, **Knight of Nevarra, Military advisor to the court of King Jon

**Grey Worm **Master of War on the Small Council of Queen Daenerys, High Commander of the Royal Army

**Robb Targaryen **Son of Jon Targaryen and Daenerys Targaryen, Crown Prince of the Twin Kingdoms

**Jon Snow, **also known as Aegon Targaryen and Jon Stark, King of the North Kingdom of the Twin Kingdoms

**Haggo Stallion **Dothraki Khal, Lord of upstart house Stallion.

**Sansa Stark, **Lady of Winterfell and the Eyrie**, **Wardeness of the North

**Wolkan, **Maester assigned to Winterfell

_**Cursive/Bold text is in Dothraki**_

In her rooms at Winterfell Sansa Stark was asleep, dressed only in her nightgown. She stirred when she thought she heard shouts and clangs of metal in the distance. What truly made her snap awake and sit up on the bed was a pair of grunting sounds just outside her door followed by two thumps made by something heavy hitting the ground. Then a key turned in the lock and the door opened, a man she didn't know stepping through.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" She demanded of the man.

In response the man sighed. "My, such a pretty face. A shame really, but a job's a job, and a man's got to earn a living. I'll make this quick if it helps."

"Make it quick…?" She repeated, a sense of danger growing in her mind. It was then she noticed the bloody knife in his hands. All color drained from her face as she realized what he was going on about.

"No!" She screamed when the man lunged at her with the knife. Reacting on instinct, she thrust a pillow in front of the blade. The knife tore right through it, and suddenly the air was filled with tufts of feathers. Then an open palm slammed to her collarbone flinging her on her back on the bed. As the man clambered onto the bed after her, knife at the ready, she reached over the side of the bed, her fingers closing around the handle of a chamber pot. Before the man could strike at her she struck him to the side of the head, hard enough for the pot to shatter. He staggered, covering the bloody wound on his head, cursing in a foreign tongue. Sansa took advantage of his momentary disorientation and bolted to the door. But before she could get through a hand reached out and grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her back hard enough to make her scream. A kick to the back of the leg made her fall to her knees, and then the knife appeared again, going for her throat. She caught his hand with both of hers, stopping the blade inches away from her skin. The man continued to push the knife toward her, cursing all the while. His other hand continued to hold onto her hair, so tight that Sansa thought he might pull off her scalp. The man was much stronger than she was, his arms thick with muscles created through years of physical exercise, and little by little the edge of the knife neared her throat. Just as she thought that she could not hold on any longer a huge white blur entered through the door and slammed to the man, knocking her aside. She looked up from the ground and saw the man struggling on the ground, screaming and his knife gone from his hand, the huge mass of Ghost on top of him. The direwolf latched his teeth onto the man's neck, and with a twist of the wolf's head the man's screams were cut short by a sickening crunch. Afterwards Ghost calmly walked over to her and sniffed her, making sure she was all right.

"Oh Ghost…" She sobbed, wrapping her arms around him, all the emotions of her harrowing experience beginning to pour out of her. She buried her face to his white fur and cried. Ghost seemed to understand, resting his head on her shoulder, not minding the soaked patch of fur her tears caused.

She had been there for a while when Ser Davos and the Captain of her Vale guard came through the door, panting and with swords in their hands.

"My lady, are you all right?" Davos asked, alarm clear in his voice.

"I am, thanks to Ghost." She replied, quietly. "What is happening?" She asked then.

"We are under attack. Infiltrators struck us from inside the castle. We are containing things as best we are able." The Captain replied.

"Gods…" She breathed. "Where is Bran? And Robb. Where is Jon's son?" She demanded, her voice suddenly full of authority once more.

"Lord Brandon is safe in his tower. Master Kieran is with him. Any idiot that tries to attack them will be burned to a crisp twenty different ways. And Prince Robb is safe last I saw. I have some of my men with him." The Captain said.

"That's not good enough damn it! I had two men outside my door, and they didn't even slow down the man that came to take my life!" She said sharply. "Find the Prince and bring him here! Now!" She commanded.

"I'm on it." The Captain said, nodding hastily. "Ser Davos, stay with lady Sansa, keep her safe. Bar the door and do not open it for anyone but me!" He told the Onion Knight before storming off through the door.

As Davos sealed the door with a heavy wooden beam, Sansa went to retrieve the assassin's knife, thinking to give herself at least some ability to defend herself, just in case. Picking up the blade she tried not to look at the dead man or his wounds. After that there was nothing to do except wait. Davos sat down on the bed his eyes occasionally drawn to either Sansa or the dead man. Ghost lay down at his feet. Of the trio in the room the wolf seemed to be calmest, although occasionally he stirred, lifting his head up to look at the closed door. Meanwhile Sansa found herself feeling restless, pacing the length of the room, fiddling the knife in her hands.

"Damn it, where are they? It's been too long, they should be back by now." She said impatiently, glancing at the door.

"Maybe if you sat down…" Davos tried to say after a while of watching her pace.

"I'm not in the mood for your sage wisdom Davos!" Sansa snapped at him.

The Onion Knight simply looked at her with raised eyebrows. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, that was unworthy of me." She said in apology.

"It's just…" She said before sighing and sitting down on the bed beside Davos. "Jon told me to keep his son safe. If something were to happen to him on my watch… Jon would never forgive me. No one would ever forgive me, least of all me."

"He is protected by some of our best. Nothing will happen to him. I'm sure of it." He said.

Sansa scoffed. "That confidence seems completely unwarranted. I was protected by some of our best, and I was nearly slaughtered in my own bed."

"I should have stopped this. This should not have been allowed to happen." She then reflected.

"And how would you have done that? Jon did not anticipate this, nor did I. It's obvious the people in King's Landing didn't manage any better, else they would have warned us. If they with all their resources could not figure this out, I don't see how we could have done so. I'm not a learned man but I don't think anything like this has ever been attempted in the history of Westeros." He said.

"I don't know what I should have done, but I know I should have done it." She said.

"Then perhaps this is more about being able to forgive yourself for not being able to foresee this. You're doing everything you can." Davos said.

"And how am I doing it exactly?" She asked pointedly. "Cowering in here, hoping to survive till morning?"

"By leading, by giving the rest of us inspiration, and direction. And by making sure that even when things like this happen we can pick up the pieces and move on."

"I'm not doing such a good job of it am I?" She said sadly.

"You do as much as you can with what you have. It's not perfect and it's not always enough, but it's all we can hope for, and I think all of us would be much worse off without it." He countered.

Despite it all, or because of it, Sansa couldn't help but smile. "I see why Jon keeps you around. You always seem to know what to say. It's good for morale. I take back what I said earlier, about not needing your advice."

Davos smiled himself. "I'm glad I am of some use at my age, but I do hope that that it wasn't all I was known for."

"Oh, not to worry, it's merely your best aspect, not the only one." She said. "Whose work is this do you think? Who sent these attackers?" She added with a more serious tone.

"We are at war. I think the answer is clear." He said.

"You're probably right. Even so, I should make certain of it. There is always a chance that there is someone else's hand at play here, someone who thought this was the perfect moment to strike while we were distracted by the war."

It was then that there was a knock at the door. Sansa, Davos and Ghost tensed at the sound until she heard the voice of her guard captain: "My lady, it's me. The prince is with us. Open the door."

Sansa nodded to Davos who moved to unbar the door. Through door stepped the guard captain, two of his soldiers and the seven year old prince of the Twin Kingdoms, Robb Targaryen. Seeing that he was alive and unhurt, she quickly moved to the prince and caught him in a tight embrace.

"Auntie, you're choking me." The prince complained quietly.

"You're safe now. We're safe. We don't need to be scared anymore. No one is going to be able to hurt us now." She said, easing her embrace a fraction.

"I'm not scared." Robb said, sounding to her ears less confident than he wanted to appear.

Sansa smiled even so, or perhaps because of it. "Of course you aren't. You brave knight you. You're son of Jon, son of Daenerys, and you don't know what fear is. You'll keep us all safe.

Still embracing the prince she directed her eyes toward the captain. "Thank you Captain, for your service. It will not be forgotten. Now I would ask you to destroy these invaders. If you can, have your forces take one of them alive. There are some questions that I would like answered."

"Understood my lady. It will be done. In the meantime I would suggest that you and the prince remain here until the fighting is done. We will seek you out when the task is done."

She nodded and turned to the direwolf in the room. "Ghost, go with him. Help him defend us."

"Ser Davos, until the danger has passed, I and the prince are in need of protection. Under the circumstances I think it would be best if you remained here with us."

"As you wish then." Davos said with a nod.

The Captain and Ghost headed out while the two other soldiers dragged the dead assassin from the room without the need to ask them to. When they were gone the door was closed and barred once again. And then… they waited. Hours passed, and none of them spoke during that whole time. They simply sat there and listened, hoping for some indication of how the battle was going. Now and then Sansa though she could hear sounds of battle, other than that silence reigned supreme. With nothing to do but wait and hope for victory, Sansa found herself hoping that Brienne was there. She and her sword would have been good to have on their side, and if she was here Sansa would have felt far more confident of their victory today. Alas, after the wars had ended she had dismissed her protector from her service, and since Brienne had spent most of her time with Jaime Lannister of all people. With the rumors about the two of them she was astonished they were yet unmarried.

"Arya…" She whispered in a voice so quiet only she could hear it, her mind drifting to the other person she would have wanted to be here. Had she been, Arya would have been absolutely livid that this had occurred. She would have gone to any lengths necessary to destroy these attackers, to protect her family. Then again, if she had been home she would likely have gone with Jon, to help him fight.

"Arya, where have you gone? What are you doing? What's become of you?" She pondered. These had been questions she had asked of Bran as well. To her surprise Bran had refused to answer her or Jon except to confirm that Arya still lived. When questioned as to why he was withholding information he had said that Arya did not wish to be followed, that she was walking a path that belonged to her alone, that when and if she wanted to return she would do it herself, in her own time. And so Sansa was left none the wiser, no matter how many times she had asked.

Finally the captain returned to her once more. He was exhausted, his armor dented, but even so he was smiling. Ghost sneaked past him to the room, his snout stained red. "It is done My Lady. The attackers have been defeated. One prisoner has been taken. He awaits for you in the main hall, under strict guard."

"Good. Very good." She said. "You are injured." She noted with some concern after she noticed the cut on his forehead near his hairline. She raised a hand toward the wound but the captain stopped her.

"It's nothing. A fleabite. No need to bloody yourself." He said dismissively.

"Go see the Maester when you have a chance. Let him judge." Sansa told him.

"I will. But with respect, only after my lads have been seen to. Many of them have sustained far greater wounds than I." He replied.

"That's acceptable." She said with a slight smile. "If you would wait outside, I will come see this prisoner of yours once I have made myself reasonably presentable. Davos, you go with the Captain. Robb, stay here, Ghost will watch over you."

The young prince took offense at that. "I told I'm not scared. I won't…"

"Don't argue! This isn't the time." Sansa interrupted firmly. The prince held his tongue and sat down on the bed, looking sullen. The Captain gave a bow and left through the door, with Davos following at his heels. As soon as the soldiers had gone, Sansa set to work. She brushed her hair, straightening out the tangles a night's sleep and fighting for her life had created. Then she went on to dress herself in the most formal black dress she could find.

Deciding that she was as appropriately attired as was possible under the circumstances, she exited her room and allowed the captain to escort her through the corridors to the great hall. Along the way they came across dead bodies, the living moving about amongst them, sparing only tired glances at her as she passed. The battle had been a difficult one, of that there was no doubt now. When she arrived in the main hall the space was full of soldiers, both from the North and from the Vale. Maester Walkin was there as well, and she gave him a nod in greeting before her eyes were fixed on the man on his knees on the floor. His hands were bound behind his back, and two Vale knights were holding him by the shoulders. He had been beaten, as was evident by the blood on his face and chest. If not for the current circumstances Sansa might have mistaken him for a peasant, so plain was his attire. Briefly she wondered if there had been some kind of mistake, if the soldiers had captured someone they only thought was one of the attackers. But then he lifted his eyes to look into hers. That was when she knew. This was a trained killer, unafraid and unremorseful even now.

She regarded the man with a face hard and emotionless like stone. "Who sent you?" She asked, her voice cold like a midwinter night.

"Answer me!" She commanded when the man did not respond. Still the man did not say anything. She nodded to one of the knights holding him and the man was struck across his face with a gauntleted fist, making him grunt in pain. The hit was violent enough that the flesh on his cheek split, revealing the bone underneath. With rapid steps she advanced to him. The Maester tried to say a word of warning but his words were nothing but a buzz in her ears as she grasped the man by the collar.

"WHO SENT YOU!? WHO DARED TO SEND YOU!?" She screamed in his face, enraged.

To her surprise the man grinned at her, his eyes gleaming, almost manic.

"Long live the Emperor." He said before biting down hard on something. Then foam began to spill from his mouth, he started swaying, slipping from the grasp of his astonished captors and falling face down to the floor. As everyone looked on in astonishment the Master came over, kneeling besides the dead man and placing a pair of fingers on his throat, feeling for a pulse.

"He's dead my Lady." The Maester said with a shake of his head.

"Doesn't matter. He said enough." Sansa said with cold, barely contained fury in her voice. Then she looked in the eyes of those assembled in the hall. "On behalf of the King and myself, my gratitude to you all, for your bravery tonight. Winterfell stands free, and we of the Royal family here owe you our lives. Captain, those of us who died in our defense are heroes, and I would have them treated as such. Give them an honorable burial."

"As for these others…" She eyed the dead man with disgust on her face. "Get this garbage out of my castle. All of them. Be damn sure you don't mix the two groups."

"What would you like us to do with their bodies?" The Captain asked.

"Bury them, burn them, feed them to dogs? Do as you like, so long as you get rid of them." She said dismissively before turning to the Maester:

"Send a Raven to Jon. He needs to know this happened."

"It will be done my lady" Wolkan said and left immediately in the direction of the rookery. Sansa left the room shortly as well, going to double check that her family in Winterfell was alright. And then there was much to do to repair the damage and restore the numbers of Winterfells defenders. And she had to talk with Bran about all this. If this had happened anywhere else she wanted to hear of it."

* * *

"House Kronos? You're certain?" Daenerys asked, horrified. Her army had set up camp for the night and she had called a meeting to consider the strategic situation. The contingents from the Stormlands and Dorne were still on their way, but other than that her army had finished assembly.

"Tyrion's message was quite conclusive. They attacked the Tully forces trying to stop the Orlesian landfall. It appears that they have betrayed the Kingdoms. It is possible that other Upstart Houses have followed suite, or will soon." Grey Worm said, his voice grave.

"Traitors! I knew I should have dealt with them when I had the chance. Now it seems too late." She hissed. "We need to warn every lord not here with us, particularly Jon and Jaime Lannister. They both have upstart houses nearby, and their armies might be in jeopardy if they get caught unawares."

"Messages will be sent as soon as we are done here:" Grey Worm said.

"Make sure that our fastest ravens are used. Time is of the essence now. I just hope our warnings are in time, otherwise we face disaster." Daenerys told him.

"It seems you were all too correct when you said that my lack of action against the Upstart Houses might be interpreted as weakness. Apparently that includes them as well." She said to the ambassador.

Derek nodded sadly. "I would have much rather have been wrong about this, though."

"Of that I have no doubt." Daenerys replied. "I hardly believe it myself. I know they were reckless, and I know there have been tensions between me and many of those houses, but to betray the kingdoms to side with these invaders..?" She contemplated bitterly.

"**Fortunately, not all of us have betrayed you, Khaleesi. Some of us remember who we are destined to ride with." **A new voice spoke up. She lifted her gaze and saw a man with a thick black beard and the copper skin of a Dothraki, dressed in lamellar armor, with an arakh at his hip, a quiver of arrows on the other side and a bow across his back.

"**Khal Haggo? You're here?" **She answered in dothraki, smiling as she recognized him. He was one of the dothraki who had chosen to remain in Westeros after the rest had returned to their home. Years of living in Westeros had led them to pick up some of the local customs, mixing them with their own, the best of both worlds. Eventually they had formed to what approximated a noble house, with Haggo at their head, one more of the Upstart Houses born in the wake of the wars before the Twin Kingdoms. She might have tolerated them as lords in truth if not for the existence of other Upstart Houses who would have used that to argue for their own elevation. If some self-made houses were acknowledged as true lords, why not them as well they would have said. And at the time she had felt she could not allow noble houses to sprout of their own will without her say so. In her mind to do so would have invited chaos and anger, potentially laying the groundwork for another civil war. Now of course those precautions seemed touch redundant. The Upstart houses had raised themselves in rebellion, and war had found a way to return to their lives.

But as such Khal Haggo and his house, House Stallion, were one of the few Upstart Houses she actually got along with, one of the few she could trust with certainty. These were her bloodriders, sworn to kill for her. Their loyalty was not in question.

"**Of course I am. We are the blood of your blood, and what kind of bloodriders would allow their Khaleesi to ride to war without them? And so we answer your summons, lured by the sweet promise of battle." **He declared proudly.

"**Then I am pleased. The men of Orlais pride themselves as the finest horse riders in the world. Perhaps you will show them just how mistaken they are." **She said with a nod of gratitude.

"**Your enemies shall find no rest, not the ones here and not the ones across the poison water. I bring word from beyond the sea, from your people. The fight in your name continues, but the serpent-men of Tevinter press us hard. Your bloodriders call upon their Khaleesi to join her strength with theirs so we may destroy this worthy enemy." **He said.

"**And I wish for nothing more than to ride to battle at their side. But first we must defeat the enemy already in our home." **Daenerys answered.

"**Yes. In battle the closest enemy dies first. It is known." **He said grimly** "And so House Stallion stands ready, our riders eager to spill blood of Orlesian metalfaces. The other new houses stand with you also, they have asked to bring you a message. When we heard that war was coming we convened to decide how best to respond. Some never came, and now we know why. So I can tell you which new houses remain true, and which have gone on to serve new masters."**

"**Then tell me." **She said. **"In the common tongue if you would." **She added before Haggo could answer, holding up her hand.** "Some here aren't fluent in Dothraki, but they should understand this as well."**

The Dothraki nodded his understanding before answering in the common tongue, accented but understandable: "Houses Kronos and Blackstar jointly lead the alliance against you. House Warblade has joined them in the north, as well as house Sea in the Reach. Meanwhile Lady Nadya has brought house Silverpine to your cause, and Lord Oren has sent messages that he intends to join House Redforge with King Jon to make amends for mistakes in judgement. House Merchant of the Vale has provisionally declared for you, though from the slowness with which they have gathered, they may be waiting for a victor to emerge before committing to either side. The smaller new houses are bannermen to the others, and have declared their allegiances accordingly." He tallied.

"I see." The Queen said, nodding. "House Watchman? They have near eight thousand men at their command, a decent boost to any army they side with." She asked.

"The sit in their forts and decline to taker part altogether." Haggo scoffed "I rather think the Dornish sun has melted their brains. How else could be explained their weak wills and slothful manner?"

"It's an odd choice to be certain." Daenerys agreed. "This war represents an opportunity to make something of themselves finally, and yet they refuse to seize upon it. I don't think they get how this whole lordship thing works."

"But tell me, can you vouch for the new houses? Are they truly loyal, and will they remain loyal? The last thing I need right now is a knife in the back, so much depends on your answer." She asked.

"I am confident that you can trust them. If they did not intend to honor their promise I don't think they would have offered." Haggo replied. Then he hesitated briefly. "They… did express their hopes that next time when it comes time to consider their requests to have them recognized as lords and ladies you will remember their service and the swiftness with which it was offered. We have heard that promises of such recognition was how the enemy lured the others into their service."

Daenerys nodded again, having caught Haggo's meaning. "I understand. Well, if they remain true with us to the very end, then I suppose it is a just reward for them."

"I shall bring that message to them then. I'm sure they will be pleased of the reassurance." He said.

"There have been more news from King's Landing my Queen. Lord Tyrion has more details regarding the Orlesian army." Grey Worm said, moving on to the next topic.

"Has he discovered how large a force they have brought?" She asked.

"He has, and the news is grim. He tells us that the Orlesian army is some eighty thousand strong. All under the command of one Alexander de Rozien." He answered.

"Eighty thousand?" Daenerys breathed, hardly believing her ears. "How many of those are fighters?"

"That is the fighting arm of the army. With the support elements included their numbers are greater still." Grey Worm said.

"We can still match their numbers once we combine our strength with the North." She said defiantly.

"In terms of simple numbers, perhaps. But there are a number of other factors we must consider now. For instance we know that around half of the Orlesian force is cavalry, twenty thousand of which are Chevaliers, the rest being Imperial Army cavalry." Abassador Derek countered, joining in on the conversation.

"And it gets even better than that." He continued. "My sources would have me believe that a large contingent of mages have been assigned to support the army."

"How many mages?" Grey Worm asked.

"Under two hundred. But that is enough to inflict terrible harm." Derek answered.

"These mages… do they come from the College or the Circles?" Daenerys asked.

"Both." Derek replied. "The way I hear it First Enchanter Vivienne wants to take back her old position as magical advisor to the Imperial Court. The College covets the same, believing it to be a necessary step to validate their institution in the eyes of the world. So both organizations have committed mages to the fight in the hopes of endearing themselves to the Emperor."

"And in the process they do the exact opposite for me. But very well, if they wish to side with the Orlesians and face us in battle then I see no reason not to oblige them." The Queen said. "Both at once… this isn't going to be easy." She thought to herself.

"Ah yes, before I forget, the Inquisition has issued a statement, declaring their stance on the Orlesian invasion and outlining the actions they intend to take in response." Derek said.

"And what has the Lord Inquisitor decided to do?" She asked, hoping that no more enemies were about to be added to an already overlong list.

"The Inquisition has made a formal protest to the Orlesian Empire for their attack against Inquisition troops stationed at Eastwatch by the sea. In retaliation the Inquisition has suspended all co-operation with the Empire for the duration of this war. They have stated that they will not respond to any request for support made by the Empire, except in the form of humanitarian aid. Furthermore, in the event of peace talks they have extended an offer to serve as mediators." He said.

"That is more helpful than I expected of them. A formal offer to support us would have been even better, but I guess I should be grateful for this much." The Queen said with a relieved smile.

"There's more." Derek said. "The Inquisition has established a number of safe zones in various regions of Westeros, apparently with the support of the local lords. They have declared that anyone on either side of the conflict who wishes to take no part in the war may go to one of these places, where they will be cared for until the war's end. In return those permitted entry are not to engage in any violence, under the penalty of expulsion. They have also sent a warning to us that any interference or attack against these sites will be met with an appropriate level of force, including, if necessary, deadly force. I imagine they have sent similar warnings to King Jon and the Orlesians."

"Hmm. Well those safe areas will doubtless save many lives. I'm pleased of that. Less so of their presumption to issue orders to me. Fortunately they do not ask too much. Inform our forces to steer clear of those places, I want no trouble with the Inquisition." She said.

"Did you say the Inquisition got permission from the lords to set up these areas?" She asked, to which Derek nodded.

"I guess the rumors about some of the nobility being in their pocket weren't an exaggeration." She contemplated. "I suppose we should take a closer look at the strategic situation." She said, but before they could a young man entered the tent, a scroll in his hands.

"Your Grace, my Lords, pardon me for interrupting, but a Chantry courier just brought this message. I told him you were having a meeting, but he insisted that it was important." He said.

Slightly puzzled, Daenerys accepted the scroll with a nod and the messenger gave a quick bow and left. "The seal… it's from the Divine." She said examining the scroll. "Looks to be an official declaration." She said after breaking the seal.

She began to read aloud from the letter:

"To the attention of Queen Daenerys of the South Kingdom, King Jon of the North Kingdom, Emperor Gaspard of Orlais…"

* * *

"…Gaspard of Orlais and the faithful of the Maker's world, a writ of clarification is hereby issued by Divine Victoria the First. It has been brought to the attention of the Chantry that attempts have been made to call the current conflict between the Twin Kingdoms and the empire of Orlais an exalted march. The Divine hereby declares that this is a false designation. The conflict currently undergoing between the Twin Kingdoms and the Orlesian Empire is a secular affair, an affront in the eyes of the Maker and his institutions in the world. Therefore the ongoing conflict does not in any way shape or form enjoy the support or approval of the Chantry. Any attempts to declare or imply otherwise will be met with stringent denials and rebukes from all officials of the Chantry. The Divine expresses her wish for a swift resolution to the ongoing conflict, so that peace might be restored to this corner of the Maker's world and the lives of His children might be preserved from the ravages of war. Furthermore, Her Perfection wishes to remind the faithful that an exalted march is an action that can be declared exclusively by Blessed Andraste of her representative in the world. It is therefore wholly inappropriate for secular leaders to falsify such a declaration in pursuit of their worldly agendas. Such an act constitutes an offense against the Maker, to be condemned as sinful behavior by all the faithful. Written on behalf of Divine Victoria the first on the fourteenth day of Molioris, on the fifty second year of the Dragon Age."

Jon lowered the letter he had been reading aloud and turned to look at his military advisor.

"Well, as far as the Chantry goes I don't think I have ever seen such a searing condemnation from them. It seems the Emperor seriously blundered with his whole Exalted March card. Now every even remotely pious Orlesian will wonder if supporting the war is even the right thing to do." Edmond said.

"Hopefully it's just the first of many blunders." Jon said. "Let's have a look at what the situation is on the field." He said then, turning to the map where wooden pieces depicting the various armies were arranged.

"Right. After they defeated the initial Tully forces during their landfall their army has now landed into the Riverlands, close to the Twins. The Tully soldiers that survived the landfall battle rallied with a royal army training force nearby, creating a force of some five thousand strong, mostly infantry as I hear it. Together they tried to avoid the Orlesian main force and make it to the Twins. Unfortunately the Orlesians seem to have detected their movements and deployed their cavalry contingents to intercept them, forcing them to meet the Imperials in battle. I fear those troops are lost." Edmond said, moving the pieces on the map where appropriate.

"You may well be right. But they won't go down without a fight. Hopefully they will cause serious damage to the Orlesians before they fall." Jon said.

"I wouldn't hold out much hope in that regard. An army of half-trained boys with a few grey old men to lead them, outnumbered around eight to one by a well-trained and battle hardened cavalry army? I would bet a hundred gold sovereigns that they won't survive the first charge." Edmond said.

"You would really bet against a king?" Jon asked, half surprised, half in jest.

"Uh, no, not really. It would not be appropriate, and I doubt I could afford it if I somehow ended up losing. I was just making a point." Edmond said hastily.

"I suppose we shall know how it goes for them soon enough." Jon said. "In the meantime we must turn our attention to the upstart houses. According to the reports we have received Houses Kronos and Blackstar have betrayed us, siding with the Orlesians. Other upstart houses may have followed suite, although house Redforge has already sent messages declaring their support for us. The traitor houses will need to be dealt with, otherwise we will have an enemy at our backs. For us that means confronting House Warblade. Winterfell is currently undermanned, and unless we defeat them, they are in a position to threaten the castle."

"And relating to that effort I have a special assignment for you, ser Edmond. I don't know how much we can trust house Redforge. They might be genuine, but this might also be some kind of trick. So I want you and a few other men to go out and establish contact with them. If they are sincere, you can direct them to attack House Warblade alongside us, and they can prove their commitment that way. I think with your experiences in politics you are perfect for this job." He commanded.

"And I'm expendable…" Edmond said with a light, joking tone. "Well, if I'm to make it in time for the battle I guess I should get underway immediately. With your leave, Your Grace?"

Jon nodded and Edmond left the tent. The king's attention was drawn back to the map, staring at the pieces depicting the various armies. "And so it begins…"


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16; Battle of the Charge**

**Characters of the chapter**

**Alexander de Rozien** Chevalier of Orlais, Marshal of the Grand army of Orlais, Supreme commander Orlesian invasion of Westeros

**Andharr Kronos **Lord of the Upstart House Kronos

**Ynessa des Montagnes **Chevalier of Orlais, Duelling Champion to de Rozien, Chosen sword of Orlais

The sun blazed full on a midday of summer, bringing warmth the battlefield and the two armies present as they maneuvered to face each other. The battlefield itself was an open meadow of low grass lined on all sides by thick forests, that, unbeknownst to all, concealed a few young farm boys that had come to observe the battle from afar, safely on the sidelines.

On one side of the battlefield were the Westerosi, their army consisting of Targaryen infantry in their silvery chainmail and metal breastplates painted black; as well as Tully soldiers in their scale mail. The three-headed dragon banners of the Queen fluttered lazily on the wind alongside the trout of the Tully's and a dozen other banners belonging to lesser houses. The Westerosi had arranged themselves into neat squares just outside the forest. Spearmen at the front, archers at the back. The only significant mistake in their deployment, brought about by inexperienced commanders, was that they were standing on an open field, rather than taking advantage of the more broken ground inside the forest. The Westerosi force was mostly infantry, with only a handful of knights riding up and down the line, ensuring their men were properly organized.

The Orlesian host arrayed on the opposite side of the battlefield, on the other hand, consisted entirely of cavalry. Chevaliers formed the center in their ornate heavy plate decorated with flowers, lions and depictions of Andraste, sitting atop equally heavily armored warhorses. The Chevaliers were organized into a number of wedge formations, each about five hundred men strong. At the head of each wedge flew the masked sun of the Empire. On the flanks of this force there were blocks of more lightly armored Imperial cavalrymen on their unarmored horses.

"Orlais!" came the thunderous shout from the Imperial side. "Orlais, Orlais, Orlais!" shouted the orlesians again and again as the worked themselves to a battle-fury before the charge. Lances tilted, and to the deep, growling Bwaaarrra! of an Imperial warhorn the orlesian charge began, the ground shaking before the hooves of forty thousand horses. In response the Westerosi loosed a volley of arrows into the air. The cloud rose, and fell, peppering the Imperial ranks like rain, clattering against the armor and shields of the Chevaliers. Some found their mark, and Chevaliers fell from their saddles, dead, but not nearly enough of them were slain to break the impetus of their charge.

The Westerosi line soon began to waver, inexperienced Targaryen infantrymen shaking with fear at their positions, taking cautious steps backwards as the officers shouted for the soldiers to stand their ground, shouted for the line to be held, shouted for courage. But what courage could there be against this rapidly closing line of steel beasts, with their emotionless steel faces, and not a single weakpoint to be seen on any of them?

Just before the charge hit home, the Westerosi line broke, soldiers turning to flee, while the few who stood their ground were soon trampled without their fellows. Then the Chevaliers were amongst their enemy, and the slaughter began. Meanwhile the Imperial army cavalry soon outpaced the fleeing infantry and began enveloping the enemy, turning the Imperial line into a set of rapidly closing jaws that enclosed the fleeing foe. In a matter of minutes hope for a royalist victory was gone and the day belonged to the Orlesian Empire.

"Maker damned bastards can't even rout properly." thought one Chevalier as she plunged her lance between the shoulder blades of a fleeing man, hitting him hard enough to flip him head over heels, her lance snapping in half. She tossed her broken weapon aside pulled out her sword. As soon as it left its scabbard, the bronze colored blade ignited with golden light, as bright as the sun. She could feel the heat of the blade through all the armor she wore. With the same motion as she pulled it out she split the skull of a fleeing enemy. Then she brought her blade back up with an upwards swing, slicing open the back of another opponent, after which she went on to stab another soldier between shoulder and neck as she rode past him. She struck with her weapon again and again, and with every blow a foeman's life was ended. "Orlais! Emperor and Empire!" she shouted as she rode on, and others soon took up her war cry, until the whole army was shouting it:

"Orlais, Orlais, Orlais!"

"By Andraste's pyre, who is that? The one with the glowing sword." Asked lord Andharr of house Kronos, a forty year old man with oily black hair and stubble of the same color, as he observed the battle unfold from a distance, seated on his horse.

"That would be Ynessa des Montagnes, Chevalier and the Chosen sword of Orlais. And my personal champion no less." replied Marshal Alexander de Rozien, the commander of the Orlesian army, a man of sixty years with an undeniable air of military authority despite the plumpness he had acquired in his later years, who likewise was on horseback.

"Ynessa? Why does that name sound familiar?" Andharr wondered.

"She once took part in a tourney arranged at Harrenhall, when you made peace with your son." said the Marshall.

"Ah yes, now I remember." Andharr said after a moment of recollecting. "If I recall correctly, she was the only foreigner taking part in the tourney, also the first woman in the history of the kingdoms to do so. And then that madwoman went and won the joust and the grand melee seemingly without even trying, crushing every opponent that came up against her. Gave my best knights the worst humiliation of their lives. And my son's knights fared no better. The only contest she didn't win was the archery contest, because she didn't take part in it. I'm told the tourney crowd took to calling her the she-demon of Orlais."

De Rozien laughed at that. "I'm told she finds that nickname amusing. She's just ask capable on the battlefield I'm pleased to say. A fine soldier, if tad, erm… ferocious."

"Ferocious is quite a mild word for it. Look at her go!" Andharr commented. "Ynessa… that's not an Orlesian name is it?" he then contemplated.

"Indeed not, but Ynessa is not purely of Orlesian descent." Replied the Marshal. "Her father was an Orlesian merchant yes, but her mother was actually an Avvar. You have heard of those people I expect? How such a thing came to pass is a story she should be allowed to tell herself. She considers herself fully orlesian though, despite some traditions she keeps from her mother's culture. And the last idiot dumb enough to call her a mongrel got the pommel of her sword in his teeth, so I advise caution."

"Duly noted." Andharr said, half-amused. "But tell me, if she is of such low birth, and only half-orlesian, how come she is a Chevalier?" He then asked. "It's my understanding that the position is reserved to nobility."

"Traditionally yes, and that is the case with most chevaliers." Agreed the Marshal. "She, however, chose a most auspicious time to seek the position, since the Emperor has widened the right to become a Chevalier to include members of lower social orders with sufficient competence and the patronage of a noble or a Chevalier. She had such a sponsor, namely myself. To top it all off she challenged anyone who thought her unworthy to prove their case by defeating her in a duel. That she is a Chevalier now should tell you how successful her opponents were."

"Indeed." Lord Andharr commented. "And then there is the fact she wields the Sunblade. One does not get to be the Chosen sword of Orlais with a poor level of skill."

Meanwhile on the battlefield Ynessa spotted a target that caught her interest: a fleeing enemy soldier carrying a Targaryen banner larger than other such banners, one that could only be **the **banner of this particular army. She pressed her heels to the sides of her horse and galloped to him. "You have a choice, soldier!" she shouted in accented Westerosi common as she turned her horse to block his path and brought the tip of her sword within a few inches of his face. "You can die here, at my hands. Or you can give me that banner and go to live your empty little life somewhere else."

The soldier hesitated only briefly before handing the banner to her with both hands. She took the banner into her hands, cradling it as if it were a newborn, admiring the fabric. Then she glanced at the soldier still awkwardly standing nearby, as if expecting her to hand the banner back to him at any moment.

"What are you still doing here? Scurry away now, before I change my mind and ride you down. Shoo!" She barked at him, and with that he snapped out of his trance and began running, fleeing as fast as his legs could carry him.

With the battle now all but concluded, she rode back to the where the Marshal and Lord Kronos were to be found. When she reached them, she plunged the pole of the flag on the ground before them. "I bring us glory this day my lords. The banner of the enemy army has been claimed." She shouted in greeting.

"Nicely done." Lord Andharr commented. "But why did you let the banner bearer go? It's doubtful he could have stopped you."

"Likely not." Ynessa answered "but I offered him a bargain: his life for the honor of his army. Clearly he values one more than the other. And once a Chevalier has given her word, her code compels her to honor it."

"But why bargain at all? You could just as easily have slaughtered him and taken his banner by force."

Ynessa shrugged. "Because I felt like it. I'm content with today's battle, and he was hardly worth my time. One footman is not going to change the course of this war, but capturing an enemy banner causes shame to our enemies, the shame of not being able to train their troops to be more courageous and loyal."

"I'm not convinced such a thing will mean as much in this part of the world. Banners are everywhere hereabouts." Lord Andharr said, thoughtful. "Regardless, I wish to congratulate you on your valiant conduct on the field of battle. Your skills were a privilege to observe."

"Bah, today was butcher's work, no more. Nothing valiant about it. I came to this land expecting dragons and wolves, but all I have seen so far is dragonlings and fish on dry land. I ought to have brought a lesser sword to battle; it is offensive to spill such base blood with the Sunblade. If this is the best the Twin Kingdoms can offer, then truly this war was over before it started." Ynessa said, disdainful.

Lord Andharr was mildly incensed at Ynessa's haughty manner. The Westerosi were, after all, still his people, despite the fact that he had turned on them. He would not see them mocked this way.

"I assure you, there are more impressive enemies in these lands. You attacked untrained boys with every conceivable advantage today. Of course you won a fight like that. Next time won't be like that, not when our enemies have had time to mobilize. Next time arrogance like that might cost you." Andharr said.

"Well said, and heartwarming to hear." Ynessa replied. "Perhaps there is still some worthwhile fighter somewhere here to test myself against then."

"Alright, alright, that's enough chestpounding from the both of you. There is work still to be done today." The Marshal intervened, amused. "Ynessa, command our forces to round up any remaining survivors." he then commanded.

"What is to be done with them?" Ynessa asked.

"Nobles of knight rank or higher are to be prepared for transportation back to Orlais. We can ransom them back after this war is over. As for the rest, collect their weapons and armor, have the scribes write down their names and extract from them an oath that they will not return to the battlefield in the ranks of any enemy of Orlais. From this point forward anyone caught violating this oath will face execution as the penalty, make sure they understand that. The same applies to anyone refusing to give such an oath. After they have given their word, you may release them." Alexander told her.

"Release them?" Andharr repeated, surprised, as Ynessa rode off to carry out her orders. "Why on earth would you do such a thing?"

"Practicality." the Marshal replied. "It saves me from having to lug around a huge number of prisoners with my army, and I won't have to waste resources on them either."

"If that is your desire why not simply execute them?" Andharr asked. "It would be quicker, easier and less… risky."

"That, as it happens, would go against my orders. The Emperor has commanded me to do what I can to win these people over. He does not wish a protracted rebellion like our people faced in Ferelden. Gaining the support of the locals will be hard to do behind a pile of corpses, particularly unarmed ones, so I contain the damage when that is practical. The men I release, they will return to their homes and tell their families of how merciful we can be towards those who do not persist on resistance."

"Or the moment they are out of earshot they will decide that the oath they have given you does not bind them and return to the command of our enemies." Andharr continued to argue. "Even if you recapture them what's to stop them from giving a false name to avoid discovery?"

"Very little." said the Marshal. "But we shall make sure that they understand that when we suspect foul play we will err on the side of caution. That fear should keep most of them away, particularly since it is my understanding that local men-at-arms don't always even fully understand the cause they are fighting for. And even if they return to our enemies, they will now have to go through the trouble of providing them with new arms and armor to replace what we have taken."

"Then we can only hope that your solution works as intended. What will be our next move?" Lord Kronos asked next.

"I'll get to that later, at a proper briefing." The orlesian commander replied.

"Very well. My forces are at your service, whatever you decide. I am confident you can rely on our other allies as well." Lord Andharr reassured.

"That is good to hear." The Marshal said, pleased. "Your houses have already been invaluable to our efforts so far, and no doubt there will be sore need of you all in the future as well. Though… I have been wondering why it is so? Why did you side with us? What compelled you to betray your king and queen?"

"It was they who betrayed us. They are the same as the rest of the New Houses, yet they refused us." Lord Kronos answered, the anger he felt about the betrayal he alleged to have suffered clear in his voice.

"When the King in the North came to his throne, the world believed him a bastard, not entitled to anything at all. The throne was his because he won it through his efforts. The Queen was the last member of a fallen house, doomed to drift away into obscurity as a plaything of some Dothraki warlord, until she took agency in her own destiny, picked herself up from the dirt and with great effort built the road to the kingdom she now holds. By their actions they are our kin, self-made rulers who worked to get what they have, just like the lords of our houses. And yet they turned their backs on us. By rights they should have stood out for their fellows and supported us when we pleaded for recognition, recognition they had already received from us. Instead they chose the prideful path. They hoarded the recognition they had been granted and turned a deaf ear to our request, siding themselves with the entitled fools of older houses. All we wished for was a release from the insecurity of holding lands without recognized lordships." He continued explaining.

"Fascinating. And this brought you to us?" The Marshal asked.

"The Emperor has made our houses certain assurances. In return for our aid he has promised to be a more generous ruler. He will give us what the King and the Queen would not, and more besides. Provided your people are willing to uphold their end of the bargain." the lord of house Kronos stated.

"But of cource. The generosity of the Orlesian Empire towards our friends is renowned throughout the world." Alexander assured. "Almost as renowned as the fury we have in store for our enemies." he added, smirking behind his mask.

Lord Kronos smiled. "Then I am content, for I have witnessed the fury of your armies with my own eyes."


	18. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17; Spellwatch**

**Characters of the chapter**

**Cassandra Pentaghast,** Lady Seeker of the Seekers of Truth

**Fiona **Grand Enchanter of the college of Magi

**Iledia **Agent of the Inquisition

**Josephine Montilyet **Ambassador of the Inquisition, head of the Inquisition's diplomatic corps, member of the Inquisition War Council, advisor to the Lord Inquisitor

**Leliana **Also known as Divine Victoria I, formerly known as Sister Nightingale

**Rydeon Cadash **Lord Inquisitor of the Inquisition, Lord of Skyhold

"We are making the preparations as you commanded, but it's proving difficult. You have given us only very sparse details on what we are to do when we go to Westeros. You haven't even told us when we are going to be moving out." A man said to Iledia as the two walked the halls and corridors of Skyhold. They reached the upper floor of the main hall, where they stopped.

"I'd like to give you a more definitive answer, but it's not just up to me. It all depends on how the war goes. I can't even say for certain that we will be going there at all. If the Twin Kingdoms lose we won't be." She replied. "And from the latest news I heard things are going very badly for them." She added.

"But… you still want us keep making the preparations, right?" The soldier asked uncertainly.

"What, yes, keep at it!" She told him firmly. "It's easier to undo ready preparations that prove to be unnecessary. Better than panicking and trying to call up the necessary resources when the need is upon us and we are unprepared."

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Look, keep working as if we are going to go there. If that changes, I'll tell you then. Got it?"

"Got it. We'll do." He said, nodding.

Iledia paused, taking a moment to study his expression. "You're not sure about this entire business? Well neither am I. Going to Westeros, to work for the Dragon Queen? It doesn't seem like our fight. I did argue against it when the notion was proposed by the Inquisitor. But obviously my objections were ignored. Still, I'd much rather go home and attend to our troubles there. Goodness knows we have more than enough of them." She said.

"Then why are we here, doing this instead?" The man asked.

"Because he needs this of us, and we need each other. I disagree with this idea of his, but working together with him I've come to trust his judgment, enough to go along with it despite my reservations. I don't understand his reasons, but I trust them to become clear in time." She said.

"I know a lot of you don't feel the same way about him, but that's because you haven't worked with him directly." She added when the man gave her a skeptical look."You don't have a reason to trust him like I do. But I have seen what he fights for, why it's worth it. I know what is at stake. I believe in him, and you believe in me."

"You do still believe in me, don't you?" She asked.

"My Lady… we trust you with our lives. And our hopes for the future. If we did not then we would not be here now. We followed you in the beginning, we followed you throughout it all and we will follow you now. As you command, so shall we do, even if your commands occasionally strike us as strange. If you command us to go to Westeros and aid the Dragon Queen then this is what shall be done.

Iledia smiled. "Then I'm relieved. Relieved and gladdened. The loyalty and trust of each and every one of you warms my heart. More than anything it's that which has allowed to me to keep going. You give me hope where otherwise I'd have none, conviction where I'd only have doubts. I just hope that one day I can repay what has been given, so it will all be worth it."

She was about to continue when movement below her caught her attention. She saw an elven woman with short black hair walk with brisk steps across the hall, heading in the direction of the War Room. "Ah. There she is."

"Who is she?" The man asked.

"Grand Enchanter Fiona, leader of the College of Magi." Iledia explained. "She is here to attend to a very important meeting, one that could change a great many things."

"You have your instructions. If there are more details to work out, seek me out later, and we may discuss them. Now I'm afraid I must go." She said, straightening her back.

"Oh? Were you called to attend the meeting as well?" The man asked.

"No, but I intend to listen in either way. Some developments just cannot be ignored. I need to know how this goes." She said, beginning to leave.

"Are you sure my Lady? The Inquisitor won't like it if you do this." He called after her.

"I'm sure. He has need of me, remember? And he is not the kind of person to do me harm for something as simple as eavesdropping." She called back.

She made her way down the stairs, through the rotunda where Solas had once taken residence, across the main hall, through the ambassador's currently vacant office and finally down the corridor leading to the War Room. At the door to the War Room she halted, already able to hear muffled sounds coming from the other side of the thick boards. She raised her hands and the air above her palm began to ripple. She brought he hand over one ear, then the other. Her magic working, she became aware of small sounds: Insects crawling between the stones at her feet, wind blowing on the other side of the wall that thankfully the masons at Skyhold had gotten around to repairing at long last. More importantly, with her enhanced hearing she could make out the voices coming from the other side of the door. She leaned on a wall and began to listen…

"So, Lord Inquisitor, why have I been asked here?" Fiona asked, having already exchanged pleasantries with the Inquisitor. Josephine was also present in the room, but no others.

"There is a… proposition that you ought to see." Rydeon replied, handing her a stack of papers.

"Spellwatch...?" Fiona mumbled as she read the title. She read on, and as she did so her expression became one of shock and horror.

"You cannot do this…" She breathed.

"I know how this seems to you, but…" Rydeon tried to say.

"YOU'VE REINSTATED THE TEMPLAR ORDER! A COMPLETE VIOLATION OF THE TERMS OF OUR ALLIANCE!" Fiona erupted, cutting him off.

"Hold on! Nothing has been done yet! And these are not Templars. There are a number of things that make them entirely different!" The Inquisitor countered, raising his remaining hand defensively.

"How are they any different!? You're creating an organization specializing in monitoring and combating mages! How is this any different than what my people fought to overthrow!?" Fiona continued to fume.

"The first thing, if I am allowed to speak, is that this organization will not exist under the direct rule of the Chantry, but will be a specialist branch under the Inquisition." Rydeon said.

"Like that means a damn! You serve the Chantry yourself!" She shouted. Then she forced herself to calm a fraction. "Once that might have been reassurance enough. But now? You are in the service of the very institution that oversaw our oppression for centuries. You extend this oversight on us without our knowledge or approval. And now you would give yourselves a weapon that we cannot abide you having."

"The truth about the Inquisition's relationship with the Chantry is somewhat different than you seem to think." A new voice spoke up.

Fiona turned toward the sound and her eyes widened. "D-Divine Victoria? You're here?"

"Indeed, although officially I have not left the Grand Cathedral. It's easier to avoid unnecessary questions if I was never here. I think we both agree this matter should be handled with confidentiality. And so I trust you will keep our secret." Leliana said, walking to the table.

"But why are you here? You of all people?" Fiona asked.

"The Inquisitor felt that I should be, to offer personal reassurances and dispel any concerns that might arise. I agreed. As such I would point out that I have granted the Inquisition broad autonomy to act as they see fit. By the rules written in the treaty handling their transition to the Chantry's service I cannot issue a directive to the Inquisition, or imply such. I can advise and suggest, but in the end the final decision will always belong to the Inquisitor. My role in this is to maintain a very general oversight to point upcoming issues and ensure they continue to follow their charter, which is to protect Thedas as well as to work to create and maintain peace in our world."

"Is that so?" Fiona said, sounding rather skeptical. "It looks like it's true what they say about you. You've tricked the nobles of Thedas into believing that the Inquisition's power is contained under the sacred authority of the Divine, leaving their nations pacified and accepting of you. And now those nations seek to neither subvert nor destroy you, while in truth you are free to act as you see fit, just like it was during the Breach War. And I'd bet the Inquisition has the Divine's sanction whenever they need it, no? How devious of you. No matter. I don't mind that. There are other concerns that bother me far more right now."

"I understand that. But I would ask that you not reject us until you have heard our proposal in its entirety. I would point out that as Divine I have been very supportive of the freedom of mages. Supportive indeed to the claims to equality made by any group that has been pushed to marginalized positions through no fault of their own. I believe that mages have been unfairly stigmatized because of a few bad actors. As such I have no interest in reestablishing the old order. If you are willing to listen to our proposal you will find that the Spellwatch is simply a security measure aimed at those same bad actors I mentioned. Those who have done no harm and intend to do none we will leave be. To reassure you to that effect I promise that this will not happen without your cooperation. Getting that cooperation is why we called you here in the first place." Leliana said.

"I know that you have a progressive mindset, Most Holy. And that is a very agreeable state of affairs to us mages. But even if what you say is true, that the Inquisition is allowed to make its own decisions and that you have no intention of making this group what the Templars used to be, you will not be Divine forever." She said to Leliana. "If a Divine were to come along that wanted more direct control over the Inquisition, I can see her accomplishing her ends by appointing an Inquisitor subservient to her desires. And then all your promises, all your good intentions will be worth horseshit."

Josephine swallowed back her distaste at the crass use of language, then spoke: "The Inquisitor has already taken the problem you mentioned into consideration. That is why he has declared that when a new Inquisitor is to be chosen, it shall be the War Council that does the choosing, through unanimous agreement. The Inquisitor can recommend candidates, but the War Council is ultimately under no obligation to follow those recommendations. And once in office the new Inquisitor can freely choose the members of his War Council. As you can see the Divine is not involved in any stage of the process."

"Seriously? And what says the Divine to that?" Fiona asked, raising an eyebrow.

"She does not oppose the notion. As you pointed out they can get my support to their decisions when they have need of it. Much of the time. I still consider myself entitled to disagree, and I am still Divine. Just one that has very good relations with the Inquisition, trusting them to have the best intentions for all of us in mind." Leliana said.

"You don't think it too obvious a move, considering the circumstances? That you surrender the right to choose the leader of an organization that supposedly belongs to you. To say nothing of how skeptical I am that you would relinquish the power." Fiona said.

"Everyone knows that the role of a Divine is incredibly busy. This will be seen as an act of delegation. And the Inquisition began as an organization independent of the Chantry's rule, although admittedly they were empowered by a writ made by Divine Justinia. It makes sense to be respectful to that origin by granting them some autonomy." Leliana said.

"It's also true that the Inquisition is a body that can function only if the Inquisitor enjoys the full confidence of the War Council. It is that confidence that put me in this role during the Breach War, and that is how it should be in the future as well. That is a truth, one that the Divine and I have both accepted. If we could do so, others can as well." Rydeon said.

"That still doesn't explain how Spellwatch is any different from the Templar Order. If I am to give this thing my blessing, and I am not saying that I am, you better have some damn good arguments at the ready."

"Then perhaps we ought to begin by explaining the ideological differences between the two. Josephine?" Leliana said.

"With the Divine's approval Spellwatch will be assembled as a secular organization, rather than a religious one. We recognize that in the past the use of religious doctrine to justify the monitoring of magic has resulted in… misjudgments, with truly tragic consequences on all involved. This is why the Spellwatch will base its authority on secular laws of the nations where they will operate, and the dangers of magic already universally recognized, even by mages." Josephine said.

"You will find the details of our planned training regime on the papers you have." Rydeon pointed out to Fiona. "You will note that we intend to emphasize an impeccable moral core and adaptive responses to underlying circumstances. This is very different form the Templars, who focused religious instruction and single minded obedience, which resulted in inflexible responses, deaf to the complexities of the problems we face. In particular, at my urging, we will do our utmost to curb the notion that magical talent in and of itself is a sin."

"The Templar Order was also an organization that actively watched the mages, refusing to leave them unattended even for brief times, believing as they did that mages were utterly unwilling to self-regulate. Spellwatch on the other hand will content itself on passive observation, only interfering should the methods of mages prove deficient or should a mage organization engage in clearly unacceptable behavior and refuse to correct themselves. The primary responsibility to monitor mages will remain with the mage organizations they belong to. Of course should there be an existential threat that requires the attention of the whole Inquisition they will be fighting in support alongside our army, lending their expertise where it is most needed." He continued.

"There are also differences in how the ability counter magic effectively is achieved." Leliana said.

"How so?" Fiona asked.

"Well, by the recommendation of Commander Cullen the use of lyrium will not be a mandatory element of Spellwatch. Only volunteers will receive it from now on. The rest will achieve the ability to block magic through the use of weapons, armor and artefacts designed by Dagna, the Inquisition's arcanist." Leliana explained.

"And, uh, why have you bothered to go through this extra trouble exactly? Why not just give everyone lyrium?" Fiona asked.

"Because lyrium is highly addictive, and its prolonged use damages a person's mind as you well know. Furthermore the old Chantry used lyrium not only to give Templars their powers but to control them. The Commander knows personally how hard that hold is to break. As a mage it probably doesn't matter as much to you, but perhaps it will go some length to convince you that we have no intention of abusing anyone. Leliana said.

"And this brings us to what is perhaps the most important difference between the Spellwatch and the Templar Order." Rydeon said. "You see, it is our intention to have mages serving alongside non-mages.

For a moment Fiona was stunned into silence. "Are you making a joke right now? Because this not a good time for that."

"No joke. This is the main reason why we asked to speak with you. We are hoping to have participants from both the College and the Circles, alongside mages and soldiers assigned on behalf of the Inquisition. We have already been in talks with Lady Vivienne about this. Now we have sought you out to get your support for this as well." The Inquisitor said.

"But… but why? Why would you want to do this? And what on earth made you think that any mage would be willing to take part in this?" She asked.

"It will be a perfect combination in many ways." He said. "Mages will be seen to be willing to enforce the rules they have said they support, while at the same time their shared nature with other mages will make them less inclined to abuse the authority bestowed upon them. Likewise the presence of non-mages will reassure the general populace that they too are represented in such a vital organization, and that Spellwatch will not be turning a blind eye to criminal use of magic or demonic possessions, but will remain an effective group in its intended role. What's more, Spellwatch will represent a chance for mages and non-mages to come together in a common cause, and not simply in a temporary alliance dictated by convenience or a common threat. Working together, both sides will have a chance to develop an understanding of the hardships of the other. I believe that lack of that understanding is the underlying reason for all the rivalries and bloodshed between those who have magic and those who do not."

"Do you see? This way we can get one of the oldest and most recurring issues in Thedas attended to better than it ever has been. And this way mages will get an opportunity to show themselves as a positive force in Thedas and integrate themselves more closely with the rest of the world." He finished.

"I don't know…" Fiona said, directing her eyes back to the papers. Rydeon was nonetheless pleased that she didn't seem quite as reluctant as a few moments ago. At least she was not screaming about the Inquisition betraying her people now.

"You said that First Enchanter Vivienne has already given her support?" She asked.

"Well, she has not signed the agreement yet. She said that she will not do so until you have. She is not going to embarrass herself in front of other mages by supporting a potentially controversial move that is not going to happen. Provisionally she did express support for the idea, though. She has always been of the opinion that oversight over mages is absolutely necessary. To be honest she was the easier of the two of you to convince." Rydeon said.

Fiona could not help but smirk. "That sounds about right. And yes she would be."

Then she turned serious again. "Your proposal… is perhaps not as terrible as it first seemed. But that does not mean that I will be agreeing to this out of hand. As you pointed out, there are admittedly a number of differences compared to the Templar order. But I have not yet decided if this *Spellwatch* of yours is different **enough.** I'm sure you understand that with something like this I need to be absolutely sure. Sure that these are not Templars and will not become them. But the reality is that I couldn't give you my approval now even if I wished to. The College isn't a dictatorship. The senior enchanters decide together what to do. I'm just the first among equals. As such I need to talk this over with others and return to you with our response."

"Then by all means do so. But please make a decision soon. There are storms coming. I don't know when exactly, but I know they are coming, and I'd have us be prepared for them." Rydeon said.

"I'll see what I can do." Fiona said, nodding. "It's not going to be an easy thing to convince my people to approve this, you know. I guarantee that a lot of them will be more suspicious than I am. They will look upon this and see the Templars, no matter what you do to make it look otherwise. I'll calm those fears if I can, but I can't promise success." She added.

"I do hope you appreciate the risk you are taking. If this is mishandled, it could cause a panic among mages across Thedas. It could even start another war. You do see that, don't you?" She asked.

"We do My Lady. Which is why we have asked for your discretion. This information needs to be broken to the world slowly and carefully, so we can control the effects. We trust you will help us in this?" Josephine said.

"Yes. I don't desire another war. The first one was bad enough." Fiona said. "But understand this: My people will never go back to the way things were. You have promised me that isn't where this is going, and because of our past history I trust you. But I will be watching this very closely, and if things start to move in a direction the College cannot allow..."

"We understand." Rydeon said.

"Good. Then I will go and bring your proposal to the others, see what they make of this. I'll return to you with the results as soon as I'm able. Good day Lord Inquisitor. Most Holy." She said, then began to turn to leave.

"Wait. There's one more thing we need to discuss with you." Leliana said , holding up her hand.

"Leliana, are you sure you want to have this conversation now? It might be better to hold this off until later." Josephine said.

"And who knows how long we might have to wait for the next opportunity? You know how busy we have all been with everything that's going on. By the time we actually get our next opportunity the whole topic might have slipped into irrelevance, and I'm not about to let this thing go with a shrug." Leliana countered.

"What thing? What are you two going on about?" Fiona asked.

"It has to do with the Orlesian invasion of Westeros, and your organizations part in it." Rydeon replied.

"Oh. Ah. I see." Fiona said. "You know, when the Emperor approached us for mages I assumed he had already somehow secured your support. I did not think he would go so far as to deliberately defy the Inquisition's wishes. Clearly he was a far bolder man than I gave him credit for."

"Clearly." Leliana commented dryly. "But you could have asked us."

"I would have had I been suspicious. In hindsight I should have been. Why would an army of peacekeepers support a war for no clear reason? But the Emperor's envoys always underlined the need for absolute secrecy. I thought because they were afraid that word would reach Westeros."

"Reach them and us it would seem." Rydeon said. "We'd like you to recall your mages. Immediately." He added.

"I can't. We already have a deal with the Emperor, and Orlais has so far held up their end of the bargain. It would be an embarrassment for us to back away now, simply because you told us to. I know you do not like this, and I do apologize for going against your wishes. But it's done now, and we have to see it through. We are committed. And again I don't make these decisions myself."

"Gaspard is just using you. Surely you see that?" Rydeon said.

"We're using each other. That is the nature of bargains. We give him something and he gives us something in return." Fiona said.

"What did he give you?" Leliana asked coolly.

"For one thing he has compensated us handsomely for every mage we have sent with his army. Perhaps to the head of the Chantry this seems a worldly gain, what with the limitless pools of money you have access to. But for the College of Magi money is always tight. Enchantment is a good source of revenue but that can only go so far, particularly since the numbers of Tranquil have dwindled since the Breach War, and particularly since we only have some of them with us, now that competition has arisen." Fiona said with equal coldness in her voice.

"I didn't peg you for someone who would accept blood money." Leliana said.

Fiona scoffed. "If that had been all he had offered we might well have ended up turning him down. We are not mercenaries, and so gold is not quite enough to buy our lives, or the deaths of others. As it happens the Emperor understood this as well. And so he has promised gestures recognizing us as a legitimate organization of spellcasters. If we serve him well in his war he has even promised to consider appointing one of our number as his magical advisor, that in this era is a genuine position of considerable influence. This the College continues to need more than anything else. Our fellowship is a young one, one that arose from a rebellion that caused no small amount chaos in Thedas. We have earned some goodwill since, but our position remains a precarious one, particularly since you allowed your friend Madame de Fer to build her own organization as our rival, one that those who preferred the old order might be more willing to support over us. If she gets ahead we run the very real risk of being declared an illegal group, then destroyed. And even your influence won't be able to keep that from happening. Perhaps if you had not permitted her to do so it would not be necessary for us to court the support of nations to ensure our survival."

"Funny you should mention Lady Vivienne. Because Emperor Gaspard has made the exact same offer to the Circles as he has to you. He can't possibly give that to both groups." Josephine pointed out.

"No he cannot. And I know full well what kind of game he's playing. This way he'll get more mages to his cause and by making us compete for the same prize he will wring that much more effort from both sides. But so be it. We will outperform the Circle mages at every opportunity, and then we will be the ones to get the benefits." Fiona said. "But tell me, if you are aware of the First Enchanter's behavior, why haven't you gone after her as well?"

"We have. And I'm telling her the same thing. Both your people need to back off. Your presence in his army emboldens the Emperor and makes it that much harder to end this war. We don't need it, and we can't afford it either. It puts us in danger of greater threats in the future. It is a distraction, a disruption of our plans and against everything we stand for."

"If Orlais abandons its campaign then of course we will withdraw as well. But until then, for reasons I already explained I can't ask my people to return." Fiona said. "Inquisitor, you have done more for our people than can be easily expressed in words. And we have not forgotten that. When you need us in your future conflicts we will be there for you, as friends and allies. You are perhaps the only person in the world that can expect such support without negotiating for it first, all because of what you have done. But, at the end of the day, you do not own us. This decision was ours, and it has been made." She added.

"That's it? So you are just going to send your people to die? And kill?" Rydeon said.

"Everyone of us that signed on knew what was being asked of them. We're not in the habit of forcing our people to fight, so all of them were volunteers. A lot of them were actually people of Orlesian descent who believed it was their duty to go."

The argument might have continued further, but just then there was commotion behind the door. An angry shout of "You!" could be heard from the other side of the door, followed by a surprised shout by another person, then a loud thud of something hitting the wall. Curious about what was happening, Rydeon went to the door. Opening it he found Iledia pinned against the wall, Cassandra's hand squeezing the mage's throat.

"What the…? Cassandra, what are you doing?" Rydeon asked.

"It's good you're here. I was coming to see you and I found this snake lurking just behind the door. Spying on your meeting I think." Cassandra responded.

"Is this true?" Rydeon asked of Iledia, narrowing his eyes at her.

"More or less. Not… the wording I'd use though. Could you… tell your Seeker to let me go long enough to undo the hearing enhancing spell I have on? Please? It's really… quite painful when you're all shouting at me at this range." Iledia said, struggling for breath in Cassandra's grip.

Cassandra turned her eyes to the Inquisitor, who nodded to her. She released her grip and Iledia, gasping for breath, hastily raised her hands to her ears, withdrawing her spell.

"Whooh, heh, wow. I must say your wife is fast on her feet, Inquisitor. Quieter than I would've thought too. Of course I still might have caught her had I not been so focused on the sounds coming from the other side of the door. Unfortunately my spell amplifies all sounds, so one sound can still drown out another. I'll need to refine it." She said, rubbing her throat, laughing nervously.

"How much did you hear?" Rydeon asked coolly.

"All of it. Well, not the opening pleasantries. But everything that you or I might consider relevant." She said, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"If I were in your position I would not be so glib about this. You have been warned about trying to spy on us." Cassandra said.

"I have, but today felt like an occasion I had to ignore those warnings. Based on what I heard it was well worth it. Very interesting information. But I do grant you that if you were in my position you would not be joking. I don't think you were blessed with a sense of humor at birth. Or at least you haven't had the grace of displaying it in my presence." Iledia replied

"I would not antagonize her. You might end up pinned against the wall again. And this time I might be less inclined to tell her to let go. I can't say I am any happier than she is about this. You are a guest here, which means you should behave yourself. Doing this when you were warned off makes me wonder if trusting you has been a mistake. And believe me, that is not something you want." Rydeon said as Cassandra glared at the mage.

Iledia pinched the bridge of her nose. "Inquisitor, if I was actually spying on you I would have sent someone else, someone you would have not caught in the attempt. I was eavesdropping, nothing more. And you need not be concerned. I have no intention of spreading the things I heard here. Not until you choose to make things public that is."

"And why should we believe any of that?" Cassandra said, continuing to glare.

"Because, as hard as it is for **some **of you to believe, I am on your side! As I have been for years! Honestly, after so long **someone **besides the Inquisitor could put some damn trust in me!" Iledia retorted.

"The way to trust is a long road to walk. You may find it longer than most who work for us, because of your history. And unfortunately incidents like this may not be entirely helpful in inspiring confidence in you." Leliana said as she walked through the War Room door, Fiona and Josephine right at her heels.

"If you want to talk about actions that don't inspire much confidence, I would point out that I wasn't even told that this meeting was going to happen. I had to learn of it through my own sources. You tried to keep it secret from me. It seems you are not being entirely trustworthy toward me, yet I should be so to you? And by the way I happen to know for a fact that Charter has agents watching me, so I am not entirely certain that the Inquisition is in a position to criticize." Iledia said with surprising calm, turning to the Divine.

"Well, when you put it that way…" Leliana said, rubbing the back of her head.

Iledia smiled. "At least with Charter I know it's nothing personal. If a Spymaster didn't watch everyone all the time she would be terrible at her job, and the Inquisitor would need a replacement. Professionalism I understand."

Leliana chuckled. "She always did have a professional attitude towards everything. That's why I named her as my replacement. Speaking of professionalism she has spoken quite highly of your joint operations."

"Thank you. Working with her has proven to be one of the more pleasant experiences of being allied with the Inquisition. Can't say I expected that." Iledia said.

Leliana turned to Rydeon. "As such Inquisitor I think we can forgive her this infraction. This time. She may have been poking around in matters that do not precisely belong to her, but I don't think she's plotting betrayal at this time."

"And you're so certain of that because…?" Cassandra asked.

"I'm good at reading people." Leliana said "She is on our side, provided our side is her side. She didn't appreciate being left out of the loop, that's all. She thought it irresponsible and potentially dangerous to her people, and she was curious as to what you had planned. Honestly if she didn't have an inquisitive nature would we want her going to Westeros?"

"No, I suppose we would not." Rydeon admitted.

"Then there is the fact that she already knows that she is being watched. She won't be trying anything while those agents are still in place. Now if Charter comes out and tells you those agents have suddenly fallen silent, worry then. But unless that happen, there's nothing to be afraid of." Leliana added.

Rydeon sighed. "Very well. We'll let this be. This time."

"Well, it's good to see we have voices of reason here." Iledia said with a smile. Then that smile faded as she saw Fiona and the… look she was giving her. It took only a few moments of that icy glare to make Iledia avert her eyes, choosing instead to stare at the wall. "Grand Enchanter… I don't believe we have met."

"No. But the Inquisitor has told me about you. You have a lot to answer for." Fiona said, her voice cold.

"I do. I **am **answering for it." Iledia said quietly, not moving her eyes from the wall.

Fiona scoffed. "Inquisitor, I must say your taste in companions grows ever more inexplicable. But that is your own choice to make. I believe I have to go now."

"I-I believe we still have things to discuss." Rydeon said.

"There really isn't. I'll bring your proposal for our leadership to consider. Given how controversial that is going to be I think that is the limit of what is decent for you to ask of us in one sitting. For the rest, speak with the Emperor, see if listens to you." Fiona replied before marching off without another word.

"Well… it seems that our talks have sadly been concluded. I think I should go as well. No offense, but the affairs of the Chantry can be left to their own devices only for so long." Leliana said.

"Yes, go." Rydeon said, looking somewhat deflated.

As she left Leliana gave Iledia a nod, which the mage returned. Then the Divine was gone as well, leaving Rydeon, Cassandra, Josephine and Iledia standing by themselves in the hall.

"Well… it could have gone worse. At least she is considering your idea. It was a very bold move of you, I must say." Iledia broke the silence between them.

"I take it you disapprove of this?" Rydeon said dryly.

"Oh I disapprove of anything even remotely like a Templar. My magic happens to be very important to me. At times it has been all I have. The thought that someone could just take it away from me… makes me uneasy. But on a purely pragmatic level I understand the reason for this. Not everyone can manage their gift, and some can do it far too well. And you need a weapon against Solas… and Tevinter." Iledia said.

"Don't take me for an idiot. I understood what you meant when you spoke about storms." Iledia cut in when the Inquisitor tried to speak. "You know as well as I do that eventually Tevinter will attack Westeros with the aim of taking it for themselves. If they do, then how long will Thedas stand on its own when the Imperium is channeling the power of two continents against them? And so you will be compelled to try and stop them. And in that fight you will need to balance the odds. You have mages of your own, and more as allies you can call upon. Yet for all that the Imperium has more, and Imperial mages generally trend towards the higher end of the power scale compared to southern mages, since my people don't limit themselves as much. And Solas… you don't even know for certain how much power you might need to stop him, so you need every advantage you can get. What better instrument to tackle both problems than a dedicated group that specializes in negating magic?"

"This is why you didn't want to tell me of your plan, isn't it? You were worried about what I might do behind the scenes when push comes to shove. Now that I know you are creating a weapon designed to be used against my people." Iledia said when the Inquisitor did not answer.

"I was. Was I right to do so? You tell me." Rydeon said.

Iledia folded her arms, looking at the ground. "I can understand the need to stop them, to fight them. The necessity of it. But I'll never be glad of the need. And you can't blame me for worrying that I'm being used, tricked into destroying the very thing I love."

"I am on your side, and so I'll keep your new weapon a secret. I'm just hoping that I'm not making a huge mistake in that choice. Fighting my own is not a sacrifice I give lightly. Make sure it will be worth it one day." She then declared pointedly. With that she left. Josephine excused herself shortly thereafter as well, having many more errands to run."

"I have always trusted you to make decision when one needed to be made. Even so having that Tevinter mage with us is one of the ones I have to disagree with." Cassandra said.

"Well on days like this I see where you are coming from. But she has proven to be very useful and might be more so later on." Rydeon said.

"But can we trust her? After everything she did? I don't care about her reassurances or what Leliana says. Can we really, truly trust her?" Cassandra argued.

"She's taking a chance on us. Maybe we should take one with her? It seems only fair." Rydeon offered. "But enough of her. There's only so much talk about mages I can stomach in one day. It's good to see you again, Cass. In all that commotion we didn't even have a chance to say a proper hello."

Cassandra smiled, bent down and kissed him on the mouth. "Maybe that was more like a proper hello to you?" She said.

"Very much so." Rydeon said, smiling himself.


	19. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18; The Council of Warlocks; **

**Characters of the chapter**

**Paro Thed **Greeter of the Warlocks, Member of the council of thirteen.

**The Wine King **Member of the council of thirteen.

**Tiraen Tasvius , **Magister of the Tevinter Imperium, Venatori agent, ambassador to Meereen, commander of the 5th expeditionary legion of Tevinter, formerly apprentice to magister Cato Argos.

**Judge **Member of the Council of Deciders.

**Ethereal **Member of the Council of Deciders.

**Foundation **Member of the Council of Deciders.

**Seer **Member of the Council of Deciders.

**Naysmith **Member of the Council of Deciders.

Tiraen stood on the deck of her personal ship, the _Huntress, _watching the city of Qarth slowly grow as they approached, the city bathed in the morning sun, shining from the clear skies. Her ship was a trireme of two sails and two hundred oars, its hull painted in white as was typical of ships of the Imperium. The prow of the ship was exceptionally heavy, reinforced with sheets of shining steel, while a ram lurked just under the surface of the water, features built to help the ships carry out its intended purpose. The H_untress _was not designed to catch and board an enemy ship, nor was it like the larger ships in their fleet that relied on firepower to win their battles. The ship was designed as a killer, to take on a smaller ship, ram it and sink it in one attempt, while still having the ability to heavily damage larger ships. If that was insufficient, the ship still carried a full company of archers and at least three other mages besides Tiraen. Tiraen had also insisted that the ship be rowed by free sailors, unlike other ships of the Imperium that typically were rowed by slaves. It had been practicality that had motivated her choice rather than a sense of mercy, as she thought free men more effective. And it was doubly useful in the event it the ship was boarded, since Tiraen would have a larger fighting crew than most enemies of the Imperium would expect.

Tiraen was quite proud of her ship, and she hoped it would be impressive to the Qartheen as well. First impressions were important, and the first thing the leaders of this city would see about her would be the mode of her arrival. She had spent the days of the travel in her cabin, reading about Qarth, learning all she could about the city, its history and its people. This way she hoped to learn what angles to pursue and present a face of sophistication and attentiveness.

The ship finally arrived at the docks, and she stepped to the pier, accompanied by half a dozen of her soldiers and a cluster of other imperial citizens. Pet was not at her side at this time, as she had left him at her mansion back in Meereen. She had thought he might unnerve the Qartheen to no good effect, potentially souring her negotiations. Furthermore she had not been entirely certain that in the coming Valyrian expedition the unusual conditions of that corner of the world would not affect the magic that sustained him. She had chosen to surrender the advantage of her best warrior rather than face this potentially devastating uncertainty. Selia had remained behind as well to take care of her home while she was away and assist Cato and Julius as they conducted their work to prepare their legions for war. Other slaves had been brought with her though, to carry her belongings and attend to her.

As she walked to the harbor, she was soon met with a group of people in elaborate clothes that Tiraen guessed were the Thirteen, reinstated after the unfortunate destruction of the previous council and the short lived reign of the self-proclaimed King of Qarth.

"Greetings My Lady. You are Tiraen, of the house of Tasvius, are you not? " One of them, a man with whitening hair and slight plumpness to him, greeted her.

"That is indeed who I am, come as an envoy on behalf of the Tevinter Imperium. To whom I have the honor of speaking?"

"You can call me a Merchant of Wines my Lady. I'm afraid that my actual name is quite overwhelming for the tongues of foreigners. Regardless, on behalf of the Thirteen and the people of Qarth I welcome you to our city. It is always a delight to host members of your nation." He said, motioning with his hand for her to enter the city itself.

"Cautious but polite in spite of it." Tiraen concluded, having seen the look in his eyes. He didn't seem to quite know what to make of her.

"I am curious, what is your assessment of the greatest city that ever was or will be?" Asked the Wine King as they walked the streets of the city.

"Magnificent. Even viewed only briefly and at a distance it is worth many a story. No doubt it has many more wonders to share later on." She said diplomatically. Then a mischievous smile crept to her lips:

"Although I would urge you to go see our capital of Minrathous. Perhaps you would rethink your designation for Qarth then. For my city is glorious indeed, though sadly time and cruel fortune have marred much of that beauty. Still, one need only gaze upon her to know she was once the center of the world." She said. "And perhaps one day she will be again." She added in her mind.

"Quite a bold statement, My Lady. I'm almost tempted to do as you urged and see the truth of it myself. But sadly your homeland is far, far away, and very foreign. I'm afraid such a voyage would be too much for the constitution of one such as I."

"Of course Thedas is home to many great capitals. For instance I have heard that Val Royeaux of Orlais is also an impressive city to behold." The merchant said, clearly intending his comment as something of a challenge.

Tiraen gave a dismissive chuckle. "Val Royeaux is a beauty among capitals to be certain. But her beauty is superficial, hollow. Under all that gold and marble there is little except a great deal of corruption and ugliness. A whore in a fancy dress is still a whore, even if she might be more attractive. The beauty of Minrathous runs deeper and lasts longer, and is more likely to survive hardships."

The Wine King chuckled. "Ah, we could talk about capitals all day. But I'm afraid my dear wife would be quite wroth with me if I got so carried away that I forgot to talk about business. So I would enquire as to the reason why you have decided to come to our city, ambassador?"

"There are… opportunities to pursue, bargains to secure, all that. We hope to get many gains from here." She said.

The merchant smiled at that. "I and my colleagues were hoping you would say that. There are many possible trade deals to consider. I'm certain we will be able to make mutually satisfactory bargains."

"Of course. I have brought merchants with me. They will be more than happy to discuss such matters with you." Tiraen said, motioning at the group Imperial citizens following her. "And of course should you wish to speak with me directly, I shall make every effort to meet with you. For now, however, there is another group that I have come to meet."

The smile of the merchant faded, replaced by a frown of puzzlement. "And who might they be, My Lady?" He asked.

"Why, the Warlocks of course." She said with a smile.

It was sometime later, as she was overseeing the move to the house the Qartheen had graciously offered to her for the duration of her stay, that a group of identical strangers appeared in the main hall. So sudden was their appearance that her soldiers drew their weapons in alarm and her slaves, that had been hauling her belongings, retreated to the sides of the room. Holding her staff at the ready, Tiraen's eyes scanned the identical men until her gaze settled on one of them. "Must we play games? I know full well which one of you is real." She said dryly.

"Impressive. Most could not see through the illusion." Said the man she was looking at, while the other versions of him simply vanished.

"That's because I'm a mage, just like you. You create a mirror image of yourself, but to reflect there must be an object to reflect. I can trace how you manipulate magic to create these illusions and track it back to its source, namely you." She said. "Now, explain yourself. Who are you?" She added coolly.

"Paro Thed is my name. I am a greeter of the Warlocks, and on their behalf I welcome you to Qarth. I apologize for the nature of my arrival. Dramatic entrances are something of a staple in my role." He said, giving a slight bow of his head.

"And why are you here?" She asked.

Paro smiled. "As I said, I am a greeter on behalf of the Warlocks. I understand that you came to the city seeking an audience with us."

"This is true. But how do I know that you are who you say to be? Anyone could make your claim." She said, keeping her staff at ready.

"My talents, for one thing. Few in this part of the world would know this particular brand of magic. Beyond that… you may have spotted me among the Thirteen? My order is still afforded a seat among them, albeit admittedly far more reluctantly since certain events of recent history. I rather think a seat is given to us now only because they are too afraid of us to refuse us."

Tiraen thought back, and she could indeed recall seeing him among the Qartheen, although she had not paid him any attention then. She considered for a time before lowering her staff. Her soldiers followed her example and sheathed their swords. "Maybe I believe you. Is it you then that I should treat with?" She said.

"No." Paro said, shaking his head and smiling softly. "I am merely here to ascertain whether or not you are fit to appear before the Council of Deciders, our governing body, and present your offer to them. The Council's time is very valuable, so valuable in fact that even greeters such as I are rarely called upon to make an assessment. The Dragon Queen Daenerys was the last to warrant such attention, although that story had a very unhappy ending, resulting in the demise of my predecessor."

It was Tiraen's turn to smile. "Then I am honored to be considered so special. I do hope that I can present a far more… mutually beneficial arrangement than the Dragon Queen."

"That remains to be seen." He said in a completely businesslike tone. "To evaluate your worthiness I would begin by asking what is it that you intend to propose?" he asked.

"I have come on behalf of the Imperium to create a partnership with the Warlocks, in the hopes that you would work with us… against the Dragon Queen and the Twin Kingdoms."

"Interesting. But our order is not known for warriors, and your Imperium is certainly more knowledgeable of magics suited for violence." He pointed out.

"True, but even so you have other things that might be of use to us, and things you could deny to our enemies and help us that way. I also believe that we would have common cause against the Twin Kingdoms, based on what you told me." She said.

"And you say you have come to speak on behalf of the Imperium? No one else?" He asked.

"No. No one else." She said.

"You're certain?" He asked again.

"Yes." Tiraen insisted, raising an eyebrow, wondering why Paro was pressing that point.

"Understood." Paro said with a mysterious smile. "Then finally I would like to know what would you offer in return for our partnership? I am certain the council will ask." He said.

"I thought they might." She said with a nod. "The core point of my proposal is best discussed in person. For now, to show off some of the more concrete benefits and reassure you of our good intentions, I offer a gift." She snapped her fingers and two of her slaves came forward carrying a large chest between them.

"A gift? What sort of gift would that be?" He asked.

"Something I have discovered all mages end up wanting sooner or later: Power." The chest was opened, and she motioned for him to step forward and take a look inside. Seeing the contents Parro gasped in wonder, his eyes and mouth wide open in amazement.

"Titan's blood! How came you by this?" He asked in awe.

Tiraen guessed that the Warlock was speaking of lyrium, briefly wondering why he had called the substance Titan's blood. "The Imperium counts the dwarves of Orzammar as our friends. They sell it to us, for a good price naturally. And now we will be willing to supply it to you, should we come to an understanding." She said.

The Warlock knelt in front of the chest reaching out with his hand before withdrawing it, looking at her uncertainly.

"It is safe, you can touch them. All the lyrium here is in objects or potions, so it cannot do harm. In addition to the lyrium potions and runes you will find enchanted rings, pendants, staffs, belt buckles, a spellbook or two. My slaves can carry the chest to where you want it brought. Bring it to your masters and let them know that this is just a small taste of the many benefits that can be gained through cooperation with the Imperium." She told him.

"I will." He said, admiring a rune he had picked up from the chest. "I have a high confidence that in light of this tribute the Council will agree to meet with you, within the day. I shall return to you when the time is right and bring you to them." He said to her in conclusion.

And return he did, later that evening. He insisted that she come alone since she was the only one who had earned the right to an audience through her gift. Deciding it was best to be diplomatic and play along she instructed her soldiers to stay and watch over the house. Paro led her through the winding, darkened streets of the city until she stood before a stone tower.

"Through here my lady." He said, pointing at a dark doorway in the side of the tower. Tiraen stepped through and descended a flight of stairs into the darkness. As soon as she stepped through the doorway she could sense the magic in the place, the sudden thinness of the veil, letting her tap fully into her powers. The air was heavy with illusion, and Tiraen realized the darkness was one of them. Here the darkness was not merely the absence of light, but seemed to have a form and substance all of its own. It behaved like very heavy smoke, retreating before her feet to reveal a floor of white marble and rapidly closing up behind her. There was a musty scent in the air, like decaying leaves, while the darkness seemed to swallow up all sounds, making even her own footsteps sound muffled and distant. Out of caution she took her staff into her hands and advanced further.

She stopped when she heard a voice of an old woman: "My, my, who comes before us now? A Scion of the Imperium! A potent creature to be certain. Glory made flesh, fierce and proud. White her garb, black her heart, and red her cause."

Tiraen felt the darkness draw closer, enveloping her, intending to swallow her whole. But then her staff struck the ground and an intense bright light emanated from its head. The darkness fled before the brightness, revealing a room of stone far larger than would have been apparent from the outside, a semi-circular table in front of her and seated figures with blurry outlines, shielding their eyes from the sudden light.

"Peace, Scion! We intend you no harm!" Boomed a male voice at the head of the table when the light finally began to dim.

"Then do not encroach upon me uninvited. Such provocations are like to make me wrathful toward you, and that is a poor foundation for our talks." She said sharply.

"We understand. We shan't give you further cause for alarm. You have our word." The man said, subdued. The darkness lingered in the room, cowering in the corners like a stung beast, fearful of coming near her again. Those gathered around the table remained in her field of vision although their outlines remained strangely blurry, like a reflection in rippling water, so Tiraen could not make out any details on the people around her. "Another illusion." She guessed.

"Her power is so …intense. A thundering storm bottled inside a person. I wonder if she is typical of her people?" A new, younger female voice joined the conversation, sounding awed. "A storm indeed, but that is also her weakness. Such noise quiets much else. She is deaf to so many beautiful songs of the Fade." She added after a moment of further contemplation.

"I have studied her fate. In her I see the second half of a greater being, the opposition in all things, a dark flame to match the bright one. Destined to rise to the challenge, but will she triumph or perish? The fates are uncertain. Curious." The voice of the older woman spoke again.

"Everything is curious to you, Seer, and your visions are always cryptic to the point of being incomprehensible." A new male voice joined in the conversation, irritation clear in his voice.

"Indeed. Such is the nature of fate, Foundation." Answered the older woman, unperturbed.

"Then fate is annoying, and so are you." Said the one called Foundation. "And you are no better, Ethereal. You, whose head is always in the clouds, always blathering on about you damn songs in the Fade."

"My head is in the clouds!? Perhaps, but at least I do not spend my days grubbing around with my nose in the dirt looking for shiny objects!" The younger woman retorted angrily.

"Silence!" Thundered the first male voice again. "We will not embarrass this Council by bickering like children in front of a stranger, and we will not insult our guest by examining her like some specimen. So do I rule."

"Your will is recognized, Judge." Said Foundation after a moment of silence, which the other two echoed shortly after.

"My apologies, Scion. Your visit has been the cause for many lively discussions lately. Now, I understand that you wished to talk with us?" The Judge then addressed Tiraen.

Tiraen gave a short nod of her head before answering: "I have been sent by my people to discuss an alliance with Qarth, an alliance aimed against the Twin Kingdoms of Westeros."

"Then it seems that you have wasted your time even before you appeared before us. We do not speak for Qarth. And even if we did, why would we agree to this? Why should the sons of Qarth go to die on the swords of the West for your benefit?" The voice of a third man spoke out.

"We do not ask you to commit your soldiers to our cause, though we would welcome them at our flank should you choose to send them." She answered. "In the end we will ask only what you will agree to give. You did not hear my proposal yet. We know that you do not govern this city, but you do have influence with those that do. We would ask that you apply that influence on our behalf, first in securing trade, and when war comes we would like you to supply us with the required resources. Our armies will have many needs, all of which must be met. In addition we ask that Qarth suspend trade and all assistance to the Twin Kingdoms, to make them that much weaker against us. "

"And why have you asked for our help instead of talking with the merchants directly?" Asked the Judge.

"Because those men are men of coins." She explained. "They have no causes, no principles, only profits. And try as we might, we cannot beat the argument that they will garner more profits from taking no sides at all. The warlocks have other priorities than money, and so the Imperium believes that you may be convinced to ally against a mutual enemy. The Dragon Queen wronged you when she visited your city, slaying one of your number. Because of the distance and strength of her kingdom you are powerless to exact retribution. Support us and we will deliver justice in your stead. Furthermore, you have something of great value to the Imperium, something the merchants could never give. In addition to the rest I have come to propose an exchange of magical learning: Your knowledge in exchange for our own."

"Those secrets have never been shared with an outsider." Said the Judge.

"Then perhaps today is the day to make history." Tiraen countered. "I have already taken the first step, gifting you tools of power and books of knowledge, all given in good faith, with nothing demanded in return. And that was just a taste of the feast we can give you. All we ask in turn is that we be given something of equal worth."

"Indeed her gift has been most generous, of great value to our order…" Said Foundation, to Tiraen's satisfaction.

"Beware my brethren! This one has a honeyed tongue, but her words carry a dread poison, as do her gifts. She would put us all to sleep with golden promises. And when we awaken, all we had will be gone. Stolen, by her people!" Warned the third man.

"And who are you to call me a liar? Or insult my people by calling them thieves?" She retorted, offended.

"I am the Naysmith, sworn to oppose. And today I oppose you in this." He said. Then he chuckled. "And your deceitful nature you proved before we even met. You have been dishonest with us about the one who you truly serve."

"I do not know what you mean." She said, her face betraying no emotion.

"Feign no ignorance, Scion of the Imperium. We know the truth. You are a member of the Venatori. You serve the King with the Red Crown!" The Naysmith said.

She narrowed her eyes, surprised. "You… you know of the Elder One?" She asked.

"We know much." Said the Judge. "That you chose to try to keep this from us does give us some cause for concern."

"It is not something that those of my order are used to sharing with outsiders." She said in her defense. "Clearly with you such secrecy is not necessary. Even so, I did not lie overmuch. Our cause and the cause of the Imperium are one. At worst, I omitted something."

"It was my understanding that this Elder one was destroyed by the Inquisition. If he is dead, how is it that you would still serve him?" Asked Foundation.

"Dead? Is that what you think? Well, perhaps there are still things that you do not know." She said, amused.

"It is true that had the Inquisitor struck the killing blow that fateful day, he might well have vanquished my Master. Instead he threw him into the fade, body and spirit, thinking that this would destroy him. Instead of destruction that place transformed him, allowed him to take the next step in his path to godhood. And now the Herald of Andraste is a Herald for us also, praised for his accidental service." She then told them.

"Now my Master is beyond the means of mere mortals, the God of Empires. Where peoples have built their nations and kingdoms, there he holds sway. That makes the whole world his fiefdom. He now walks the fade, seeking to complete his quest of ascension, and then return to the world, to rule. And in the meantime we of the Venatori prepare the world for his return." She boldly stated.

"Is this something you know to be true, or merely something you believe, blindly?" Asked the Naysmith, sounding dubious.

"Oh, I know it. Whether you believe me is another matter, and also not important to the topic at hand. Either it is as I say or I'm blinded by my conviction, driven to see what I want to see. Your choice. In either case I'm driven to act for the good of my people. And now that drive has brought me here, with the will of the Imperium behind me. That is enough." She countered.

"It is." Said the Judge with finality. "But the Naysmith has asked a question you have yet to answer to my satisfaction. Why should we align ourselves with you and yours? Clearly in the end you serve the Imperium and no one else. So why should we tether our destiny to yours?"

"Because we will win." She stated firmly. "And when we do, we will remember well who were our friends, and who were not. Those who side with us will prosper, and will get to keep what is theirs. The others… far less so. If you are wise, you will make sure to be on the right side."

For a moment a stunned silence reigned. "There! You have all heard her. If her words prove insufficient, then she would use force to get her way! This is no friend of ours!" The Naysmith shouted then.

"We do not take threats lightly, Scion." the Judge said angrily.

"Then I am glad I made no threats." She said. "I merely described one of the fundamental truths of our time. The Imperium will win out in the end. It is inevitable. What that means for you is your own choice. You are not our enemy, not yet. Nor do we wish you to become such. If we did, I would not have come here to treat with you."

"You speak of victory, yet the history of your people disproves your assertions. The Inquisition has laid low your order in the past. Before that many have stood against the Imperium and triumphed. It seems then to me that for all your bluster the only thing you are setting yourself up for is another failure." The Naysmith said, which made Tiraen roll her eyes.

"Many have stood against us, and the wounds they have caused have been numerous and grave. Yet for all that the Imperium has always endured. And so all that our myriad enemies have managed to do is delay our final victory." She countered. "Our triumph may not be imminent, but it is inevitable. I speak with the confidence of one who knows our destiny. That story is already written. The ink is dry."

"No one knows the shape of destiny, young one!" The Seer countered, sounding angry for the first time in the whole conversation. "Even those of us who have the sight perceive only threads of the great canvas that is fate. All who claim otherwise are ignorant to do so! And you least of all are able perceive such things, being the wrong shape! Your spellcraft pulls you back to the earth, to worldly magics. The Fade to you is nothing more than a tool, a hammer to build with and a sword to slay with! You lack appreciation for the inner beauty of that realm and cannot quiet your mind to listen to the greatest story ever told!"

Tiraen paused, amused by the dramatic delivery of the Seer. "Even if there is truth in what you and the Naysmith say, it will not be the people of Qarth that will cause our failure. Let us be honest for a while, shall we? You sent your greeter to me, and he gave me a display of the magic you wield. As such, I had the chance to observe the extent of his powers." She shook her head. "It was not all that much."

"And all this? These… theatrics you parade before me?" She said, motioning at the hall. "They only work because there is something here, something old and powerful kept in the deepest, darkest reaches of this tower of yours. I feel its presence even now. It weakens the veil here and gives you the ability to cast spells within the confines of this place. Outside of this structure your powers are greatly diminished. And it used to be even worse. I have heard the stories, the rumors, the ones that state that it was the dragons of Queen Daenerys that allowed you regain your magics. They are beasts connected to magic, and you can tap into that power, as you tap into the power of this tower. But without an alternate source, when her dragons pass from the world, so do your powers, and then you might as well not be mages at all. It seems then that my gift was more precious than I had anticipated. What is convenience for us is a lifeline to you."

She let her statements hang in the air for a moment. "So, in this litany of assertions, does any of it ring untrue to you? Have overlooked some critical detail? Have I made a mistake?" She asked.

The silence was her only answer.

"Good. Now that that is cleared up, I would ask this Council why risk opposing us when you could join us, as our friends? Why risk a life under our heel when you could be our equals, and rule whatever it is you wish to rule? Why risk being slaves when you could be lords and ladies, kings and queens? Why choose starvation when you could join us at the table and eat your fill? Why risk losing your powers for a second time when we could provide all that you need to keep them?" She asked.

"Why indeed?" Said the Foundation.

"Perhaps… perhaps the Scion is right." The Ethereal said quietly after a long silence. "It would be folly to turn her away when she offers the friendship of her people. And it is untenable for us to resist her and hers, even if we wished to. If she alone could overcome the magic of this place, then what could we possibly do against an entire nation of her kind? And our city would be alone against a nation of many, a nation with strong allies to bolster their cause. Better we bow our heads and serve as demanded, and make an ally of her. Pride now will only serve to undo us."

"Yes, I agree. We should heed her very carefully." Said the Foundation. "Let us also remember how very decent she has been towards us. She does not have to bargain with us. Her words, while harsh, ring all too true to me. If the Imperium wished it, I have no doubt that they could take what we have by force. Yet she is here, parlaying in good faith, offering fair compensation for everything she would take, even going so far as to provide precious gifts to start off our partnership on the right foot. That, to me, is generous. And consider also that even if we declined her it will not stop her people from pursuing their real objectives. And should they afterwards succeed, they will inevitably return here, certainly remembering our scorn. There is no love lost between us and the Twin Kingdoms, so why should we sacrifice ourselves for them? If the Imperium wants their lands I say let them take them, with our gracious assistance of cource."

Tiraen suppressed a smile, pleased that she was winning.

"What is wrong with you two?" The Naysmith said, shocked. "Has she cast some spell on you to make spout such madness? If we yield ourselves to her, her people will rule us forever! Can you not see it?"

"There is no spell on us. We are simply not blind to reality. And your protests are overruled." The Foundation said.

"None are overruled until I decide that they are." The Judge said calmly and firmly. "We must discuss this. A proper debate must be had, so we can reach an accord."

"Scion, I thank you for coming here, but respectfully I must now ask you to leave us to talk in private." He said to her next. "We will debate your proposal amongst ourselves and come back to you with an answer. Do not return here unless you are invited. That is our wish."

"I understand, and shall honor your request. Until I am called upon, I shall not return here. May wisdom prevail in your debate." She said before giving a formal bow and heading out of the room.

Paro was waiting outside the door and took a place at her side as they began the walk back to her house.

"I overheard your conversation. You did well. I am confident the Council will give you what you asked." He said as they walked.

"Not if your Naysmith has anything to say about it." Tiraen replied.

Paro gave a short laugh. "Well, if he did not oppose you he would not be doing his job."

"What do you mean?" She asked, curious.

"Every member of the Council of Deciders has a role they fulfill. In the case of the Naysmith his purpose is to oppose every proposal and every decision being considered. If his protests are overcome, we can rest assured that we have made a wise and considered decision. And so it was duty that drove him to argue with you, although in this case I fear he found his enthusiasm quite easily."

"I see. It is a peculiar way to govern, but I think I understand. What purpose do the others in the Council have?" She asked.

"The Judge is the head of the Council. His duty is to weigh the situation and make the final decision. As you saw, he also keeps the other members in line when the discussion becomes too heated, though that is an informal duty on his part. The Foundation attends to our interactions with the wider world. Greeters such as I are under his direction. It was he that was the source of our initial interest in you. The Ethereal is the polar opposite to the Foundation, focusing on the fade and arcane matters. Of all of us, her knowledge of magic is the most extensive. The Seer is always one of the rare individuals with the Sight, those who can sense past and future events, as well as current events happening over great distances. Sadly, since the talent is so rare, this vital seat often remains empty. Even when the seat is occupied the members are often less than satisfactory, prone to derangement or simply becoming detached from reality, unable to distinguish past from present from future." He explained.

"Fascinating. Thank you for enlightening me." She said.

"By all means." Paro said with a nod. "Please, if there is anything else you wish to know, simply ask, and I shall do my best to answer."

"There is one thing, though I don't know if you are allowed to talk about it. The power I felt back at the tower… what is it? It felt… ill, somehow."

Paro bowed his head. "I see there is no keeping anything from you. The thing you sensed… is nothing less than our most dreadful mistake, our gravest crime. It is the tragic result of our attempts… and success to achieve immortality."

"Yes, I see the hunger in your eyes." He said to her, having noted her expression. "Even at your young age you fear the relentless march of time. You dread the day when your skin is wrinkled and mottled, your breasts sagging, your hair grey and thin and your mind turned to sewage. You wish to be young and beautiful and sharp of mind forever. The world is full of people just like you. Most quietly submit to the inevitable, having concluded there is no other way. But those of us who are mages, those who know just how fragile the rules of our world are, we wonder about other possibilities. Even so I beg you to turn away from this. This is not the salvation you seek."

"How so?" She asked, trying not to hide her disappointment.

"You see, our experiment did succeed in keeping a person dying, but not from aging. Their bodies, and their minds continued to decline, while the spell we had worked on them kept them from passing away through any means known to us. Worst of all we discovered that what had been done could not be undone. Our spells proved impervious to all our attempts to dispel them." He said.

Tiraen gasped, horrified.

"Do you have any notion what becomes of a person that has aged for a thousand years?" He asked in a sharp tone. "When the waning of our magic became apparent those brave individuals incarcerated themselves to the lowest levels of our tower, binding their power to the very foundation stones of that place, so that at least some of our magics would be left to us. They remain there even today, in pain, forever dying, but never dead. They are the Undying for which our tower is now named, and we who remain exalt them for their sacrifice. Through them our magic survived, barely." He added quietly.

"Of cource, for all that, the power they could bring us was only so much. That was why, when the Dragon Queen came to our city, we lured her to our tower, intending to cast the same spell upon her and her dragons."

"You would have done that to someone else, even knowing the consequences?" She asked.

"Our cravings got the better of us. When her dragons were near, our magics waxed strong once more. We could not bear the thought of losing it all again, so we were driven to desperate measures. Because you were right when you said that a mage who cannot cast spells is no mage at all, and we cannot unless we have an external source of power. This is also why the Naysmith opposed you so vehemently. He worries that you will provide us with an alternative means of power, one that you control, and through that you would come to control us as well. He fears that if we give into you, you will dominate our destiny for all time." He said.

"But I would raise them high, to make them what mages should be in this world." She argued.

"Yes. But in so doing you would inevitably come to hold the leash. Surely you see that? We might be great, but we would only be great through you, and if you withdraw you blessing, then we would be nothing once again. And so you would always be higher than us, no matter how high we rise." He said.

"That is an… interesting observation." She said. "Do you think that will influence the Councils decision?"

"No. I think what you offered is just too tempting to refuse. Out cravings have gotten the better of us yet again. I just hope we can live with the price." Paro said.

"Cheer up." She said with a smile. "It is a beginning of great things."

After that they had reached her house. She bid Paro farewell and went inside, pleased with the progress she had made. If everything went as expected from now on, the Imperium had gained new allies today, all thanks to her. Now she could focus on her next mission, the expedition to Valyria.


	20. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19; The ones we care for**

**Characters of the chapter**

**Brandon Stark, **also known as the Three Eyed Raven, mage advisor to the court of King Jon

**Daenerys Targaryen, **The Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains, Queen of the of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men of the South, Queen of the South Kingdom of the Twin kingdoms and Protector of the Realm

**Gendry Baratheon, **Lord of Storm's End, Master of Laws on the Small Council

**Grey Worm **Master of War on the Small Council of Queen Daenerys, High Commander of the Royal Army

**Robb Targaryen **Son of Jon Targaryen and Daenerys Targaryen, Crown Prince of the Twin Kingdoms

**Sansa Stark, **Lady of Winterfell and the Eyrie**, **Wardeness of the North

_**Cursive/Bold text is in Valyrian**_

Gendry moved among the tents of the royal army, heading for another planning session. Around him men were rushing about to make themselves ready for battle. The army had moved to the Trident river, and their scouts had brought word of a force from House Blackstar was holding the crossing, intending to block their advance toward the Orlesians. And so the royal army was moving to force the crossing, towards their first true battle in this war. He was running a little late, having been held up dealing with some issues with their baggage train. The Queen and her Master of War likely had a good grip on planning the strategy so the absence of a blacksmith-turned-lord who had never planned a strategy in his life was unlikely to be a great loss. Nonetheless he thought he should be on hand to offer what insight he had as well as receive his orders for the upcoming battle.

Gendry was about half way to the Queens tent when a runner came to him. "A raven from King's Landing, my Lord. I believe from Lord Tyrion." The runner said between gasps for breath.

"The Queen is in a meeting. I'll deliver it to her. I'm heading in that direction anyway." Gendry said with a nod, taking the scroll from the runner and sending him oh his way. Then he opened the scroll and began to read. His eyes widened in shock and he took off running towards the Queen's tent.

"_**So House Blackstar remains where it is? They're not retreating any further?"**_ Daenerys asked, eyeing at the map.

"_**They are not. They've made hastily built fortifications just on the far side of the river. Our scouts think these fortifications are built partially underground, perhaps in an effort to escape the worst of the dragonfire."**_ Grey worm stated.

"_**Did they now? Well we'll see how well that works for them."**_ The Queen said, a dark smile on her lips. _**"How many are there?"**_ She asked then.

"_**One, maybe two thousand. Far less than us, and far less than there should be."**_ Grey Worm said.

Daenerys frowned. _**"What do you mean?"**_

"_**The numbers of house Blackstar are estimated to be at least twice as many as we now face. And since we discovered their holdfast abandoned the rest of their forces are unaccounted for. Some of this can be explained by forces raiding elsewhere, but this still cannot be all that are missing."**_ He explained.

"_**And where are the rest of them?"**_ The Queen asked, understanding.

"_**We do not know this yet My Queen. Our scouts seek them, but have yet to discover their location."**_ He said.

She nodded. _**"Find them as soon as you're able. We should not leave an enemy behind us."**_

_**"It will be done my Queen. In the meantime we should plan the battle to come."**_ He said, turning his attention to the table.

"_**The enemy fortifications are a complication. The river crossing is a narrow path that will keep us from using our full strength against the enemy. Crossing units will be closely packed together, vulnerable to ranged weapons. Once we reach the fortifications formations will have to break up to cleanse the area. It will be a desperate struggle at close quarters, fought tooth and nail, man to man. There is danger that the assault will cost us more men than we are willing to lose."**_ He said.

"_**Then we will deny them the advantage of their fortifications." **_Daenerys decided._** "They are mostly made of wood are they not?"**_ She asked.

Grey Worm nodded.

"_**Then I will start this fight by setting fire to their fortifications. Given the choice between abandoning their positions and burning, I think we can anticipate their response. Then will come the army to finish them off."**_ Daenerys said.

"_**That is a good plan."**_ Grey Worm said, not mincing words as usual. _**"Though the enemy may expect this approach. They know of the Dragon. They may have planned for him."**_

"_**That could be, but without knowing what they intend we cannot yet plan how to counter it. We will make our own plan and if the enemy does something unexpected, then we'll adapt.**_" She said firmly.

"_**Once I'm done our heavy cavalry can move in and deliver the finishing blow. The Dothraki can screen our flanks in case these unaccounted troops you mentioned make an appearance, and the infantry can mop up remaining enemy pockets if necessary. Do you approve?"**_ She continued.

Grey Worm leaned closer to the map, examining it closely, looking for factors that might present problems with the Queen's plan of action. Finally he straightened his back once more. _**"I approve of this plan, my Queen."**_

Daenerys nodded and smiled. _**"Excellent. It's settled then. You can relay our plans to your officers this evening. As always, I'll entrust you to give more detailed orders to your men and manage the tactical decisions on the ground. You know the composition of our forces and how to use them to their best effect."**_

"_**Where's Gendry? I thought he would be here by now."**_ She asked suddenly, glancing at the tent's entrance.

"_**He should be. Something must have come up."**_ Grey Worm said.

"_**I hope he shows up soon. I'd rather not hold this meeting twice."**_ She said, shaking her head, giving a slight grimace.

"_**Now then, what news from the larger Westeros?"**_ She asked then.

"_**On the far side of the trident I must report the destruction of our training units against the Orlesian main force. Those that survived and managed to escape have retreated to the Twins, preparing to defend against Orlesian attempts to cross the river." **_Grey Worm told her.

The Queen nodded her understanding. _**"Well, if they manage to hold their ground then at least we won't have to worry about the Imperials getting around us."**_

"_**Meanwhile Jaime Lannister is moving his army south from the Goldroad to defeat house Sea a**__**nd then move back north to join forces with us. Thanks to our warning he reports that his army is well prepared for combat."**_ He continued.

"_**Then I wish him good fortune on the field of battle. With everything that is going on we have dire need for some good news."**_ She said.

"_**And what of the North? What is Jon…" **_She began to ask before Gendry suddenly burst into the tent, red faced and out of breath. As he steadied his breath the Queen and Grey Worm briefly stared at him with raised eyebrows, surprised at his lack of tact. What could have possibly have rattled him badly enough to make him behave this way?

Daenerys was the first to recover from her surprise, giving Gendry a welcoming smile. "Ah. Gendry. There you are. We were wondering where you were at. We were just about to…"

"There has been a message from lord Tyrion. A very important one." Gendry blurted out before she could finish.

She briefly narrowed her eyes, irritated that she had been interrupted again. "You can put it on the table. I'll look at it in just a moment. For now…"

"This cannot wait!" He again interrupted, almost pleading with the urgency in his voice.

Daenerys gave him a long, curious look, then wordlessly walked around the table and took the letter from him. She gave Gendry one more puzzled look, then turned her eyes to the letter. When she was finished reading she raised her eyes to Gendry's her face now a mask of utter horror.

"Winterfell? Th-they've struck Winterfell?" She stammered, all color drained from her face.

"Yes, and many other places as well. They have…" Gendry began to say. He never finished because the Queen suddenly rushed forward, pushing past Gendry and running out of the tent.

"What the…? Hey!" Gendry said, calling after the Queen. "Where is she going?" He asked of Grey Worm. As his response Grey Worm ran out of the tent as well, going after the Queen. Gendry was left standing where he was, his eyes moving around the now empty tent. He sighed.

"Well. Okay. I grant that my news was very bad, but I was hoping for a little more constructive response rather than everyone just running away." He said to himself, rubbing the back of his head. He wondered if the Queen had even read past the portion that mentioned Winterfell.

The Queen ran through the camp as fast as her feet would carry her, shoving past any that were in her way, nearly tripping over several times in her haste. Such rushing about was not exactly presenting a regal image, but right now she didn't give a damn about appearances. All that mattered to her right now was where she was going. Her path took her away from the camp into an open field of grass just outside.

As she neared him, Drogon stirred from where he had been sleeping. Sensing her need, the dragon lowered himself to the ground, allowing her to climb onto his back. Fortunately the dragon-saddle was still on him, left on from a scouting flight she had flown with him a while back. Not that it would have mattered to her at this moment if it had not been there. If the saddle were absent, she would have simply flown him the old fashioned way.

She quickly dropped herself in the saddle and with fingers made clumsy from the haste began to attach the straps that kept her in the saddle during flight.

"_**My Queen! Where do you go?" **_Grey Worm shouted, having just arrived.

"_**Winterfell! I'm bringing my son back to King's Landing. I need to make sure he remains safe." **_She shouted back.

"_**But… what of the battle?" **_Grey Worm asked.

"_**Start without me, or wait until I return! You decide. I'll come back as soon as I can, but this is something I must do." **_She said, then urged Drogon to take flight. Grey Worm had to shield his eyes from the dust storm the dragon's wings raised and take several steps back to avoid being toppled by the gusts of wind. He was left standing on the ground, staring after the receding form of the dragon, a stunned expression on his face.

Wind whistled in Daenery's ear as she urged Drogon to fly faster and faster, the dragon eventually starting to make sounds of complaint as he was getting pushed to his limits. Even so the Queen would not relent in her demand for speed as she made her way towards Winterfell. She had to make it to Winterfell, right now! She had to! She had to know that her son was safe, or that… no, she could not consider that possibility as real. Every minute she had to live with this uncertainty it paralyzed her with fear and worry, making her unable to think or act unless it was towards dispelling the uncertainty.

"Oh Tyrion, if only your letter had mentioned what had happened to my child, perhaps then I could take hold of myself." She thought. "But how could you have done this? To confirm it would take more time, and this attack needed to be reported at once. And perhaps you even did mention him in your letter, and I simply missed it? I did not read very far, after all. The moment you mentioned assassins in Winterfell I panicked and left to go there. You performed you duty exactly as I would have you do it, and delivered the news that needed to be delivered. How I responded… is my own failing."

She was being irrational right now, she knew, letting her emotions make her decision for her. At worst she was flying into a trap right now, at best she was wasting everyone's time by behaving so impulsively. Yet this was her son. In this she had no choice. This she had to do.

As she flew, she prayed. She did not believe in any gods, and so she was not certain to who or what exactly she was trying to beseech, but even so she prayed:

"Please, let Robb be alive. Let my son be alive and safe. Don't take him from me. Not again!" Thought she. Three children she had lost in life, one human and two dragons. A fourth might be more than she could bear. A fourth might break her. It might poison her with grief, and then she would have no control over the effects.

"People of Orlais, for your sake I hope that you have not done anything to him." She thought, her mood turning sour. If the Orlesians had so much as harmed a hair on her son's head, she would set fire to their nation and burn them to ash, this she promised herself. But then she realized the road her thoughts had taken, and it was enough to make her hastily retract her silent vow, and remind herself of the true consequences of following through with it. Not all in Orlais were responsible for what had been done. She could not lose sight of that. Dragonfire would murder the innocent and guilty alike, caring nothing what any of them had or had not done. It was a blind tool, so she could not afford to be.

She recognized a familiar darkness in her in that moment of careless thought, a rage that was cold and fiery at the same time, one that could grow into a flame that would consume all before it, and part of her recoiled in fear upon feeling it again. Many years ago, during a pivotal moment, she had overcome this emotion and had assumed she had freed herself of it permanently. Yet here it was again, like an advisor that had fallen to disfavor but returned to whisper in her ear during a moment of weakness. She felt such shame in allowing even this momentary lapse.

"But this time is different. This time I recognize this instinct for what it is. I know better than to give in to it. I will keep it under control. I will remember who I am, the things I fight for, the principles I uphold. The fire in my heart will help me defeat my enemies, but will never enslave me. I will not let it twist my sense of what is just and fair, and make me into what I'm not. Never again." She told herself. And yet… if her son had been killed or harmed, would her answer still be the same then? She hoped it to be so, reassured herself that it would be, and felt disappointed in herself that she could not give her answer with as much confidence as the world deserved.

"Faster, faster!" She again urged Drogon in her mind, but the dragon would agree to no more. The only reason he had tolerated this abusive pace as long as he had was the fact that it was his mother that was the one doing it, and because on an instinctive level he too could sense her urgency, her distress.

Finally Winterfell was in sight, and Daenerys directed Drogon into a descent.

* * *

"Have you sent the captains to nearby villages to ask for more recruits?" Sansa asked of Davos, the both of them walking toward Winterfell's courtyard. By now most of the damage from the attack on Winterfell had been repaired and life in the castle was slowly returning to normal. But even as they were recovering much work remained ahead.

"I have, but I can't promise they'll be successful. Most villages in the North will have been swept through and emptied when Jon was building his army. There might not be all that many able bodies left." Davos replied.

"They have to succeed. The soldiers we lost in the attack must be replaced. The attack has thinned our ranks unacceptably low. If we have to fight for our lives again we can't accept fighting with less men than we started with. And seeing as we were not the only ones hit I don't think we can rely on anyone riding to our rescue should we have need. We must fend for ourselves." She said.

"I'm sure the captains will do everything they can. But even they can't call up soldiers from thin air. And there are only so many we can call upon to be soldiers before it damages other work that needs to be done. War or no, crops need to be harvested." He countered.

"I know. Soldiers will do us no good if they starve to death." Sansa agreed. "And Jon's army has needs greater than our own, ones that must be met first. At least the Maester tells me that our efforts to gather supplies at Winterfell are proceeding as planned, so we aren't facing an immediate problem of shortages. We just need to make sure that remains the state of affairs. Even so, more soldiers need to be found somewhere. We must figure out the ways to meet all our needs."

"If you want more soldiers, perhaps we might hire mercenaries?" Davos suggested.

Sansa opened her mouth, about to refuse, but then she reconsidered. "Perhaps, but only if we can bypass the difficulties usually associated with sellswords. Currently there is not enough coin on hand to afford their services for an extended period and we can't rely them to keep fighting for us if the odds turn against us. And as we already had traitors and infiltrators in our midst, for the time being I'm skeptical of any group of unproven loyalties."

"From an old friend I have heard of a group on offer that might meet these requirements. With your permission I will take a closer look and return to you with the details."

Sansa stopped walking and turned to look at the Onion Knight. "Oh? And who is this old friend?" She asked.

"A pirate. Goes by the name Salladhor Saan. We go back a long ways. Does things purely out of self-interest, but a person who can be reasoned with, a businessman through and through. He contacted me in the hopes we would pay him for using his ships to bring the group here, past the Orlesians." He said.

"It would be a single payment, and his rates are typically reasonable. We can hear the price he asks for and decide if we want to accept." He added quickly.

"And the group itself?" She asked.

"From what Salladhor said they would prefer to be compensated with land to settle on rather than gold. Nothing fancy, and they're not asking for ownership of any specific building, just a plot of land that will belong to them that they can build over. From what I know of the North there are surely unsettled lands that we could give. And if things fall through we will get the opportunity to add mages to our ranks." He said.

Sansa's eyes widened at the mention of spellcasters. "The group has mages? How many?" She asked.

"All of them. The whole group." He replied.

"Thedosians?" She asked next.

"Obviously. I'll be certain to be absolutely sure of their loyalties before I take them into our service of cource." Davos said, offering reassurance to the unspoken question.

Sansa grasped her chin. "Hmm… mages would be an asset. There is an imbalance there that could stand to be alleviated. What they ask in payment is somewhat unexpected, but not unreasonable I should think. If they truly wish to be paid in land, then we indeed have plentiful places to settle them in." She mused. "How many mages are we talking about? She asked then.

"I don't know yet. But given the rarity of mages in general I think two or three dozen would be a reasonable expectation." He said.

"Not so many then. But even then they might prove a great help to our efforts." She said, nodding. "Very well. Return to this friend of yours, and speak with him again. Speak to members of this group if you can. Find out who they are, what they are about, what specifically they want from us and why do they want it. Discover for me what this bargain will truly get us." She told him.

"I will." He promised.

"Good. In the meantime I'll be asking Bran and Kieran to check that we have wiped out all the traitors in our midst." She said next, resuming her journey towards the courtyard.

"I believe they have. They assured me there would not be any further threats from inside the castle." He replied.

"Well I'll ask them to take a second look anyway, and I'll be making my own investigation alongside theirs." She countered. "Of late my confidence in their visions has been shaken. If their abilities had been working as they should this plot against us should have been stopped in its tracks before our enemies had a chance to act against us. And they didn't just miss the attack on Winterfell, they missed all the other attacks that apparently took place all over Westeros, the Qunari intrusion to Bear Island, and bloody hells they missed the whole Orlesian intention to invade in the first place. One slip up I'd understand, but not all this. Something is wrong with their abilities. I don't know what it is, but the lack of reliability is real. I'm sure they're doing the best they can, but for now their best just hasn't been good enough. What happened here… it cannot be allowed to happen again."

The two of them finally arrived in the courtyard, where they found Robb and the other children training yet again. By Sansa's direction the prince had resumed his studies, as soon as it was convenient for the castle staff to do so. During the morning there was training with Winterfell's Master-at-arms, and later during the day he would be attending lessons provided by the Maester. During his free hours he was permitted to spend time with the other children at Winterfell. At the edges of the yard Sansa was pleased to note some of the castle's soldiers keeping an eye on the prince. She had quietly arranged for them to be there, instructing them to be as subtle as possible about their presence so as not to impact the prince's day to day life. Even so Sansa suspected that the increased security had not gone unnoticed by Robb, but if so he had chosen to say nothing. Better protection did come at a cost in inconvenience, but given the circumstances she thought it a better option to leaving the prince vulnerable to attack. She had arranged for more protection to herself as well, and she was more than willing to tolerate their presence, at least until the war was over.

"It looks like he's feeling a little bit better." Sansa commented.

"A little. But you can still tell he is bothered by what happened. It's not obvious, but having had sons of my own I can tell." Davos said.

"Agreed. He hides it fairly well though. He doesn't want to bother others with his troubles unless he has to, because he thinks it would be un-princely. And I think he prefers brooding. He takes after his father in that regard." She said. "Just like in most other respects." She added. The boy retained almost none of the features characteristic to his mother, having the same dark eyes and hair as his father. Only very small details marked him as the Dragon Queen's son.

"I have been meaning to ask, are you sure you want him to keep up his training? Considering everything that has happened…" Davos said.

"I think it's good for him. There's comfort in everyday routines. In knowing that even when there is great turmoil some things will remain, in knowing that things will eventually get back to normal." She replied.

"Like it is for you?" He asked.

Sansa gave him a look of surprise, then her turned just a fraction colder and more guarded. "I'm not certain what you're saying, ser Davos. I'm fine."

But then Davos gave her a look that told her he'd rather hear the truth. "I haven't slept very well since that incident. I have had my life threatened before, but not like that." She admitted, closing her eyes. "This time there was no advance warning, and this time it happened at my home, the one place I thought I would be safe."

"Well, it's safe again now." Davos tried to console her.

"Perhaps, but that's what we thought before they attacked us. If they could hide among us for so long without us knowing it, why not again?" She said. "But then again, that's probably what they want us to think. They want us afraid, always worried about when there might be another attack, thinking they might be everywhere at once even if they really aren't. But that's why I need to be sure that we got them all, and why we need our days as normal as possible in the meantime." She added.

"If there is anything I can do to help…" Davos offered.

"Thank you, but I will be alright, given time. I have survived far worse in my life. And you are already doing more than enough to help us." She said.

It was at that moment the prince suddenly motioned for the master-at-arms to call for a halt, then walked to Sansa.

"Aunt, I don't feel like training today." He told her.

"You should keep at it young man. It's the only way you'll learn. It's what you father would want." She replied.

"But father's not here is he? Or mother? Why does it matter if I train of not?" The prince protested.

Sansa gave a slight sigh, walked the prince a little to the side, then knelt so their eyes were at level. "Robb, this isn't about the training is it? So tell me, what's the real problem here?"

Robb looked at the ground. "Bad people attacked us here. What if more went after mom or dad?"

"We'd have heard of it by now. And both of them have an army of people with them who will keep them safe." She said.

"I should be there too. I want to help them. But I can't do it can I? Even if I train as hard as I can I won't be ready in time." He said, tears welling in his eyes.

Sansa sighed, taking a gentle hold of his shoulders. "These things take time, Robb. But we are doing everything we can. Your parents will be safe, I promise. The best thing we can do now is to keep ourselves strong, and safe. Knowledge that we are alive and well will help keep them going. And if you want to help them, attend to your studies and your training. Be the best prince you can be. That way you can be ready one day to help defend us all."

The prince nodded, looking determined although still teary eyed. Sansa smiled. "Come here." She said, taking him into a hug.

"I miss them. I miss them both." He said, pressing his face to her shoulder.

"I know. I do too." She replied.

"Even mom?" The prince asked.

There was a short pause. "Of course. She is family, and we are friends. Friends that sometimes disagree and argue, but friends can do that and still remain friends you know."

It was at moment, as if on que, that a familiar roar could be heard overhead. She released Robb from her embrace and the two directed their eyes skyward, along with everyone else in the castle, seeing the dragon fly over Winterfell.

"Mother…" Robb breathed.

"What in blazes is she doing here!?" Davos exclaimed, instinctively moving to Sansa for instruction.

"Alert the castle staff. And I'll need an honor guard. Hurry it along." She told him. "Unbelievable. I don't understand. Why would she just appear here completely unannounced? What is she thinking? And in the middle of a war no less." She muttered to herself.

The yard began buzzing with activity, people frantically trying to get themselves into something at least resembling a state where they could receive the Dragon Queen. But without an advance notice of any kind it was already too late by far. Before anything was ready the dragon had landed and the Queen strode through the gates, eyes wild as she tried to find something among the gathered crowds.

"Well, at least she doesn't appear to be any more prepared than we are." Sansa thought as she moved to greet the Queen, taking note of her rushed appearance.

"You Grace, I apologize for all this, but we weren't notified…" She said aloud.

"Where is he!? Where is my son!?" Daenerys demanded so abruptly that Sansa was stunned into silence, at a loss for words despite simplicity of the question.

"Mother? What's going on?" Robb asked, having just pressed his way through the gathered crowd.

Upon seeing her son Daenerys's eyes flashed with joy and relief. "Robb!" She exclaimed, running to him and catching him in a tight embrace. "Robb… Robb… my boy… my baby." She sobbed, crying tears of utter relief. Then she lifted her face to look into Sansa's eyes, then to the other in the yard, beginning to pay attention to the public setting she was in. She released Robb from her embrace and slowly raised herself back on her feet, adopting a bit more formal posture.

"Lady Stark… I heard what happened. About the assassins. I apologize for intruding like this, but I was worried for my son's safety. But clearly those concerns were unfounded. You have my thanks, for keeping him safe." She said. "And of cource I'm glad to see that you're unharmed as well, and that Winterfell remains in Stark hands." She added hastily.

"Of cource. I did promise Jon that I would keep Robb safe like he was my own child." Sansa replied.

Daenerys smiled. "Then you are a woman of you word my lady."

"You have done well, but even so I would be more comfortable if my son was in King's Landing, where our defenses are stronger. I have come to take him there." She said then.

"We're leaving? Already?" The prince asked, surprised. In his life he had divided his time between Winterfell and King's Landing, but this was earlier than he had been expecting to move.

"Yes, my sweet. It's necessary." Daenerys told him.

The prince looked at the shape of the dragon, clearly visible through the open gates. "Will I get to ride Drogon?" He asked.

"Yes, yes, you'll get to ride him." She said with a smile, making Robb's face light up with excitement. "Now go and pack up your things while I have words with your aunt." She said then.

The prince left to do as he had been bid, and Daenerys moved to speak with Sansa again. Together they went to the walls where they could speak privately.

"You know, I have been thinking, Jon's army is not terribly far away. If you wanted to meet him…" Sansa began to say as they walked the wall.

"I don't have time for any more detours." Daenerys interrupted. "…I'd love nothing more than to see him again, but I don't think reality will allow me the luxury. There's a war going on and my army needs me back. This antic of mine probably used up time I time didn't have to spend. I just hope consequences aren't too severe." She then explained.

"You took action to make sure your son was safe. I'd hardly call that an antic. Sansa said.

"Maybe not. Still, I don't think it was the wisest thing I've ever done, especially now that I know that he is safe and sound. But that is the kind of thing you do for the ones you care for." Daenerys said.

"I knew someone once who told me that's why we should never love anyone but our children. Because we end up doing stupid things for the ones we love that we would not do otherwise." Sansa said.

Daenerys scoffed. "She sounds like a cynic."

"She was. In the extreme. And ultimately I think she was wrong in this. Our affections do create vulnerabilities for us, but they are necessary ones. To refuse them would mean being less than human." Sansa said.

Daenerys nodded. "I think you are right. But who is this other person you speak of?"

Sansa smiled. "No one of import. She's dead now anyway."

"But tell me, what do you intend to do about the attacks that took place elsewhere?" She asked then.

The Queen was stopped in her tracks. "Wait… other attacks!? The same thing happened in places other than Winterfell?"

"Yes." Sansa said, frowning. "Are you saying you didn't know?" she said, cocking her head.

"I… may have skipped over a few things in my rush to come here." Daenerys admitted. "I told you I wasn't making my wisest decisions back there." She added, smiling apologetically.

Sansa chuckled. "I see. Then I guess we'll have to fill you in here. You should take copies of our recent messages when you go, for comparison. Just in case something has escaped Tyrion's notice. I'll see to it that the copies are made for you with haste."

"I will. And thank you." Daenerys said.

"There is one more matter, Your Grace. Something else you might not be aware of." Sansa said. "There was a message some time after Jon left with his army, from Lyanna Mormont. It said that Bear Island was under attack. By Qunari forces. After that message we have heard nothing. Unless we hear otherwise we have to assume that we are under attack by a second invader."

"Qunari." The Queen breathed. "Our enemies keep appearing like mushrooms after rain don't they?" The she said with a heavy sigh. "Does Jon know?" She asked.

Sansa shook her head. "But he will, as soon as I have had the time to compose the messages. Given everything that is going on that might take a while. Word about the attack on Winterfell has been sent though."

"I hope he reacts to the news better than I did. He won't have a dragon to get back to his army quickly if he decides to come back to Winterfell." Daenerys commented.

"A similar thought did cross my mind, so I did try to tell the most reassuring part first in my letter, that his family is alive and well and Winterfell did not fall. And hopefully the lack of a dragon will be a sufficient deterrent to rushing about.

"Hopefully indeed." Daenerys said. "What you told to me about the Qunari attack is very concerning. We don't have the resources to fight both opponents at once. The Orlesians are already in the mainland, so we will have to focus on them and hope the Qunari situation doesn't grow out of control in the meantime. Once Orlais is defeated we will turn around and deal with the Qunari as well." She added with a frown.

"Yes, I suppose that's what we must do. But we can't just ignore the Qunari either." Sansa said.

"No, of cource not." Daenerys said in agreement. "We will keep an eye on them, and if the situation with them develops further we will adapt as best we are able. I trust you will handle doing so on your end?"

"Absolutely." Sansa said, nodding.

"Good. And I will be making sure my people in the South Kingdom are doing so on their behalf." Daenerys said. "I'll also need to send messages to Yara. She will also need to make the Orlesians her first concern. The Orlesian navy must be defeated so we can slow their mobility and stop their supply lines."

"That could prove to be a difficult order for her to follow. Bear Island and the Iron Islands are only a short distance from each other. If the Qunari want to continue taking territory Yara's home would be a logical next step, particularly since a lot of the seapower in the Twin Kingdoms come from there." Sansa said.

"Yes, that's what I'm worried about. If she decides that the Qunari are a bigger problem for her, it could impact our overall strategy in a very serious way. That we cannot afford. Not with all the setbacks we have already suffered. I intend to point out as much in my message to her. I just hope she listens." Daenerys said.

"Agreed. As bad as Qunari situation could be, and as understanding as I am of ones need to protect their own home, this is a bad time for waging war independently. If we want to emerge as the victors here we must work together, as a unified front." Sansa said.

Daenerys smiled. "I'm glad we understand each other in this."

As soon as the recent messages had been copied and brought to her, Daenerys made ready to leave. She was eager to move on, knowing full well that time was of the essence. Fairly soon she was back on Drogon, the prince seated in front of her and a satchel full of papers at her side.

"Now hold on tight my sweet." Daenerys said to her son, putting an arm around his waist to make certain that he would not fall off during flight. Then she turned her eyes to Sansa, who was standing on the ground in front of Drogon, giving her a long look.

"Stay strong lady Stark. Our dawn will come yet." Daenerys said, then urged Drogon to take flight. Drogon opened his wings and lifted himself to the sky, rapidly rising high and heading southward.

"I do hope you are right Daenerys. For all our sakes." Sansa said to herself, looking after the shrinking form of the dragon.

In the godswood Bran, seated in his wheelchair, turned his gaze to the sky to watch the dragon flying overhead. Once he had gone the turned his face back to the weirwood tree in front of him. He laid his hand on the white trunk of the tree, and his eyes rolled over in his head. Hours passed this way, people knowing not to disturb him when he was doing this. Eventually his eyes returned to their normal position, and he turned his face back to the sky.

"How odd… what does this mean?" He said quietly to himself.

"Pity that she already left." He thought to himself. "She will want to know this. But it is not important now. That much I know, even if much is still uncertain. It can wait."


	21. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20; Our plans of action;**

**Characters of the chapter**

**Ald****é****ric Chaput, **Ambassador on behalf of the Circles of Magi

**Alexander de Rozien, **Chevalier of Orlais, Marshal of the Grand Army of Orlais, supreme commander of the Orlesian invasion of Westeros

**Andharr Kronos **Lord of the Upstart House Kronos

**Deniel Fabre, **Master Engineer of the Orlesian military, head of the field engineering corps assigned to the Grand Army of Orlais

**Gilbert Gagnon, **Spymaster for Marshal Alexander de Rozien, liaison on behalf of Marquis Briala

**Hannah of Starkhaven, **Ambassador on behalf of the College of Magi

**Michel de Chevin, **Chevalier of Orlais

**Ynessa des Montagnes, **Chevalier of Orlais, Duelling Champion to de Rozien, Chosen Sword of Orlais

_**Cursive/Bold text is in Orlesian**_

"…_**You are hereby sentenced to be hanged from the neck, until dead."**_ An Orlesian soldier finished reading from a scroll. He was standing on a wooden platform, and next to him four prisoners were standing, dressed only in dirty white shirts and trousers. The prisoner's hands were bound behind their backs, and thick ropes were around their necks, connected to a wooden beam above their heads. The Orlesian soldier turned to a man with a black mask shaped in the appearance of a grinning skull.

"_**Proceed."**_ The soldier said.

The executioner nodded and pulled a lever in front of him. The floor before the prisoner's feet gave away and they fell down until the ropes caught their fall, snapping their necks. The execution was a clean one, none of the prisoners were left to be strangled. Their dead bodies twitched for a time, then were still. The crowd that had gathered to watch slowly began to disperse, in utter silence.

"_**What did they do?"**_ Ynessa asked Michel de Chevin. The two had been on their way to a meeting the Marshal had called, until the execution had caught her interest, having just had time to witness the conclusion.

"_**They raped a few locals, so I believe. As you know, the Marshal has given strict orders that the local population is not to be harmed unless he commands so. For defying his orders there is only one possible response."**_ Michel answered. _**"You seem troubled****?"**_ He then noted.

"_**I know they did wrong, and that they had to pay the penalty for that. And I certainly wouldn't want what they did done to me or anyone I know. As such I don't pity these guys. But… these things happen in war. You know it, I know it. Odds are others will do what they did. Will the Marshal execute them all? If he does can we deal with the loss in manpower? Whatever they did, they would also have fought with us in the next battle. If the Marshal wanted justice, could he not have waited until the war was done, take the maximum benefits out of scum like this, then execute them if they still happen to be alive at the end."**_ Ynessa explained.

"_**Waiting around just sends a message that this kind of behavior is acceptable. The Marshal hopes that a public execution now will function as a deterrent against other incidents like this. You know his mindset about this. Brutalities like this only strengthen the will of the locals to resist us and he will not lose what we win in our conquest during the occupation. The risks of such resistance far outweigh the loss in manpower."**_ Michel countered.

"_**I suppose you're right."**_ Ynessa agreed. _**"But what if the locals lied about what happened, just to get us to kill off a few of our own soldiers? It is not beyond the realm of possibility."**_

"_**The matter was investigated. Spymaster Gagnon was quite satisfied with his findings."**_ Michel said.

"_**You know, him being satisfied is not exactly comforting. That guy creeps me out."**_ She said.

"_**Huh. Didn't expect to see you spooked by anything."**_ He said.

"_**Not by battle or anyone I might meet there. And the emotions of battle are more of a thrill to me, something to be enjoyed. Feelings of fear then are just a spice without which life would be considerably blander. But the spymaster has something broke inside. No sentimentality I can see. No attachments. No emotional investment for or against anything. Just cold, hard efficiency. The emotions I live by he seems to reject altogether. That's the part that spooks me. It's just not natural for a person to be that way." **_She said.

"_**To tell you the truth he makes me uncomfortable as well. But from what I can see that state of mind is common with a lot of the more high ranking spies. In that line of work showing emotions or having attachments can kill you. So a lot of the good ones either don't have such things or they have long since learned how to hide them when not in the company of people they trust. They leave nothing for their enemies to exploit." **_He said.

"_**I wonder why anyone would choose to live that way?" **_She said.

"_**Not all do, for some that life chooses them. And others are simply cut out for it, and nothing else." **_He said.

"_**I suppose you would know such things. You have been in the Imperial Court after all. Unlike me." **_Ynessa mused.

"_**Yes, I would. For all the good it does me." **_Michel replied. _**"But now we really should get moving. Otherwise we'll be late." **_He then added.

Ynessa nodded and together they hurried to the command tent, not wanting to keep the Marshal waiting. Once they reached the tent they announced themselves to the guards by the entrance, then went inside and took their place on the edges of the tent, alongside other officers. Both she and Michel had command of a regiment in the army and had been frequently assigned command of larger sections of the army as field commanders, so they did have a place there. Even so the Marshal would be busy with higher ranking officers and representatives, so unless he wished to speak with them directly they were only to observe the meeting and listen for the Marshal's orders.

Even as Ynessa was taking her place along with Michel, Alexander was eyeing the gathered crowd, waiting for his officers to gather.

"Good. Let us begin." He said finally. He was speaking in the common tongue so that Lord Kronos, who was also present as the representative of the Upstart Houses that had sided with the Empire, could understand what was being discussed. The said Lord was currently leaning over the map on the table, studying it intently.

"Perhaps we might start with you, Messere Gagnon? What news from our operatives?" He told his Spymaster.

"Of course my lord." Said the Spymaster, his back ramrod straight, arms folded behind his back, dressed in black boots, a wine red coat, a pair of glasses sitting atop his nose. He had been a more or less permanent fixture in the Marshal's briefings since the Grand Army of Orlais had first begun forming in the Corridor. He was the local ranking commander in charge of the Orlesian spies in Westeros and as such was in many ways the eyes of the army. He was also here to speak on behalf of Marquis Briala, a person that was not officially the leader of Orlais, but at the same time was so influential she could not be ignored either.

"Unfortunately I have to report only partial success from our infiltration missions. Some objectives were achieved successfully, strategic locations captured and enemy soldiers dispatched. Additionally several local nobles either captured or killed as per our threat assessments and our future objectives. I do have to report an incident at Riverrun, where Lord Edmure was apparently killed contrary to given instructions, our agents either misinterpreting their orders or unforeseen circumstances arising. I'm still somewhat confused as to what exactly occurred, but naturally I will enquire." He said.

"Later, if it proves to be important. For now continue your report." De Rozien said.

Gagnon nodded again: "Despite the issue I spoke of our greatest success was undoubtedly at Riverrun, which is now under the control of our agents and military elements from House Kronos. Given your victories on the field Marshal I think it safe to say we have removed House Tully from this war for good. In the Vale the Bloody Gate is ours for the moment, though the enemy forces may be intending a counterattack, so I cannot confirm that it will remain in our hands for long. Nevertheless Lord Kronos tells me that House Blackstar has managed to deploy a force of cavalrymen to raid the territories of the Vale and keep the local forces occupied. But at other locations local forces prevailed. Most critically it appears that our attack on Winterfell has failed, since I have not heard back from any of the agents sent there. Highgarden and the Eyrie were also failures, although at the Eyrie at least heavy casualties were inflicted before our agents were killed off. And we also have control of some of the fortifications leading down from the castle, preventing the remaining enemy garrison from leaving."

The Marshal sighed. "At least there are results, but nowhere near as much as we had hoped for. I do hope this was worth it. I shudder to think of the cost in money it must have been to bring all these spies into Westeros, and to keep their existence a secret all this time no less. Not to mention the number of bards we have gotten killed in this action."

"Aye, the cost has been heavy. But at the same time our gains have been undeniable, even if total victory was denied us. I cannot claim to be an expert in military matters, but I do believe that the efforts of our bards have made this war easier for our side. That said I do agree with you that we should be aiming for greater gains than we have now. As such I was hoping you had reconsidered targeting the King and Queen. Simply give the order and I'll assign some of my best to the case." The Spymaster said.

"No." De Rozien said with a sharp shake of his head. "It's too dangerous for us to try this now. The bards managed as well as they did because the Westerosi were caught unawares. They do not typically wage this kind of warfare, so most of them could not conceive being attacked in this manner. But now that window of opportunity has closed. Word will have gotten out of our other incursions. The King and Queen will be increasing their security measures to such levels that no assassin alive will be able to get to them, as will all enemy nobles that remain alive and free. And if we try to kill them and fail we will enrage them to the point where they will refuse to negotiate on any level, and then the war will only end with the utter annihilation of us or them. I would rather not have them fight to the bitter end."

"Even the success of such a mission contains some risk." Lord Kronos joined in. "If they die their kingdoms will fragment, and then we will be facing half a hundred smaller wars rather than just the one. No doubt the Orlesian army could overcome any one of such smaller foes, but even your armies can't be everywhere at once, and where you are not they would simply raise themselves in rebellion again. It would be a war without end. Overtime it would sap our strength. I say let them live until they can use their authority to issue a call to surrender and the Empire's rule over these lands has had time to stabilize."

The Marshal nodded. "Sending bards to attack Winterfell was risky enough. The only reason the Emperor approved of that plan was because it offered an opportunity to take a strategically important location from the enemy and a chance to eliminate Lady Sansa, one of a handful of individuals influential enough to organize large scale resistance once King Jon and Queen Daenerys had been neutralized. And having the Crown Prince on hand would have admittedly gone to great lengths in convincing the King and Queen to stand down. At the time the potential returns outweighed the risks. Now that our attempt has failed the legacy of it has become a considerable burden to our efforts. I will not add to those burdens by creating more provocations than we are already causing. I believe the rulers of the Twin Kingdoms are angry enough with us as it is."

"Understood my lord. We shall leave them be then." Gagnon said. "Should you come to a new conclusion later on…"

"You will be the first to know." De Rozien said.

"Perhaps we might move on? Where are the royalist forces now?" He asked then.

"Since our defeat of the royalist force during our previous battle the survivors that evaded capture have retreated to the Twins and are preparing a defense there. South the Royal Army of Queen Daenerys is moving northward with the clear intention of engaging us. My sources suggest that forces from the Stormlands have already joined with hers and further reinforcing armies are on their way from the Westerlands, the Reach and Dorne. Currently the only thing in her way is the army of House Blackstar, which according to reports from Lord Kronos has managed to slip around the Queen's army and make it across the Trident River. Meanwhile in the North King Jon has finished forming his army and is moving eastwards towards the Dreadfort, likely intending to destroy House Warblade." Gagnon reported.

"Lord Kronos, do you have anything to add on behalf of our allies?" De Rozien asked.

Lord Kronos nodded and directed everyone's attention to the map:

"As you directed Marshal my son has moved the army of House Blackstar to defensive positions at the Ruby Ford to block Queen Daenerys's army from crossing the Trident. His army is miniscule compared to the Royal Army of the Queen, but he does have a plan that he hopes will negate a portion of the enemy's numerical advantage, maybe give them a bigger fight than they are expecting. He will not be able to hold though. Not against such numbers. Not against a dragon." He explained.

"He is not meant to hold indefinitely. His orders are to delay the Queen's advance and give her forces a bloody nose if possible, then stage a fighting retreat. As such you may wish to call your son away. The situation is likely to get rather dangerous." The Marshal said.

"He would not leave even if I tell him to. He is a stubborn lad, and he will not abandon his army even if the situation would warrant it. There is nothing I can do about that except hope that he survives." Andharr replied.

"I do hope you understand that the orders you have given will get a lot of his soldiers killed. Perhaps all of them." He added.

"I do understand it, and I do find the loss of good people regrettable. But their loss is necessary for us to conduct our plans. You will understand the reason shortly. But first I would like to hear what the other New Houses have been doing." De Rozien said.

"Very well." Andharr said. "Further south House Sea is maneuvering to engage the Lannister army as they exit the Westerlands. If they manage to surprise the Lannisters I believe they have decent chance of winning. Should they emerge victorious they will then move to cut the Kingsroad between the Queen's army and King's Landing, depriving her army of supplies and preventing reinforcement from Dorne and the Reach. If not they will retreat to Riverrun to support our forces and make their stand there. Meanwhile House Warblade is aware of the movements of the King's army your Spymaster mentioned. They are in the process of evacuating the castle. They will be trying to escape the King's army and make it to allied forces, either to your fleet or down the Kingsroad to your army if the King has not yet locked down Moat Cailin."

"Rallying with the fleet would be the more beneficial direction considering our upcoming strategy." The Marshal said.

"I will relay that recommendation to them. Hopefully it will find them in time." Lord Kronos said. "Beyond our armies our peoples are working their utmost to keep all our armies supplied, though I foresee the enemy making moves to complicate that fairly soon. Fortunately the enemy main focus has been on defeating our armies rather than taking the lands we hold, which does give us some room to maneuver. Even so I wouldn't think it wise to rely on the New Houses for supplies overmuch. The enemy will likely be looking to interfere with our shipping, both overland and at sea."

"The pirates we have recruited to our cause may prove useful in this regard. I'm not suggesting that we use them to escort our transports. I don't quite trust them enough for that. But they will be engaging enemy at every opportunity and hopefully that will help keep them off your backs. And supplies they capture will be either sold to us or brought to us directly. That will help to alleviate any shortages." The Marshal said.

"So long as they know not to attack us." Andharr commented dryly.

"They have been given clear instructions not to. If they ignore those instructions we will interpret it as a violation of the deal we made, and then they would forfeit everything else they would have had from us. The ships of our allies will not be targeted." Alexander assured him.

"How secure are you people? Can you hold on to your territories?" The Marshal asked then.

"The New Houses have most of their assets on the field to support you. We have enough troops left in our territories to deter small scale raiding, but that is it. If anything larger comes our way we will be losing territory very rapidly. Actually a lot of us have been removing anything of value from our homes, just in case the enemy comes after us with larger forces than we can contain and we have to abandon our positions." Lord Kronos said.

"Understood." The Marshal said grimly. "Hold on to your territories for as long as you're able. We have need of them. We do have a supply line of our own of course, but it has to travel all the way from Thedas. Few locals would agree to sell to us and I'd rather not start raiding the locals for supplies, again because this would disrupt our plans to win the locals over and have a peaceful occupation."

"We will do what we can. But our resources are not infinite. This was never a fight the New Houses could win on their own. It is up to the Empire to make up the difference." Andharr said.

"And so we shall. The time has come to execute the second phase of our invasion plan." De Rozien said.

"The second phase?" Lord Kronos asked.

"The first phase was to make a successful landfall, securing a foothold in Westeros, in so doing driving a wedge between the North Kingdom and the South Kingdom. Also to establish contact with you and the rest of our allies here and win a few early victories to get things off to a good start. Meanwhile our infiltrators caused as much chaos and disruption as possible before the enemy had a chance to assemble their full strength against us." The Marshal explained.

"Our second phase will be to hold that foothold as the bulk of our forces uses our ships to move to a new location to conduct the war in." He said then.

"Will you be moving against King's Landing?" Lord Kronos asked.

Alexander shook his head. "To the North. Of the Twin Kingdoms the North is clearly the weaker of the two. And so we will go there, destroy the Northern army and claim that kingdom for the Empire. Meanwhile the Queen's army will be held below the neck so she cannot interfere with our efforts. Once we are done the Twin Kingdoms will have been severely weakened, and we will be well positioned to continue the war. Then it will just be a matter of applying pressure to the South Kingdom until the Queen chooses to capitulate."

"That could take a very long time. The Queen has a reputation of being rather stubborn. Based on what interaction I've had with her that is not an unfair assessment of her." Andharr said.

"She will do so eventually, as one side inevitably has to do in every war. In her case her need to do so is more pressing, since we are not her only enemy in the world. If we cause her armies enough damage during the second phase she may even do so as soon as the North Kingdom falls, if reason should prevail over a stubborn nature." De Rozien countered.

"To that end I have the following commands: First a force of one thousand riders under the command of Colonel Leclerc will move to the Twins to limit the zone of conflict to the eastern side of the Green Fork, and prevent the enemy from sending forces to flank us. After that they will move to support your son. Don't worry, the command will remain his. Just do tell him to use that regiment carefully. Cavalry units are valuable, ours more so than most."

Andharr looked confused. "A thousand men cannot take the Twins my lord. And how in the name of Andraste do you propose to take the castle quickly enough to then have time go to reinforce my son?"

"We have no intention of laying siege to the Twins." The Marshal corrected him. "We have a weapon you see, an explosive of sorts, based on a formula we uncovered some time ago. Single use only, but very potent. Powerful enough to destroy the bridge spanning the river."

"You intend to destroy the Twins? What if we need to cross the river later on?" Lord Kronos asked.

"Then I will trust our engineers to construct another bridge in a timely fashion." The Marshal said.

"Your trust is well placed my lord. I'm sure many of my colleagues would appreciate the challenge." Said Master Engineer Deniel Fabre, the head of the Grand Army's engineering corps, an older man with grey hair and a stubble, who somehow managed to look shabby no matter what he did with himself. For an Orlesian it was a very unfortunate state of being, one that he was painfully self-conscious about every time he was in the company of the mighty. But, as he himself liked to say, he preferred to make up for his unkempt appearance with hard work and skill. He was something of an inventor, always designing new weapons and siege methods. The Field Engineering Corps which he led was a new innovation by the Emperor, born out of his Majesty's desire to have the best military the world had ever seen. They were a group responsible for the construction work the army needed as well as the assembly, maintenance and use of their arsenal of siege weapons. Under their banner they had also a group of alchemists and specialist assault troops developed by the Master engineer for this campaign.

"I will also need you to send a few people to go with Colonel Leclerc's men to oversee that the weapon is properly deployed." The Marshal said.

"That goes without saying. I would not permit anyone but my people to handle this. Far too dangerous." Deniel said.

"The rest of your people will be divided between our army elements as we carry on to our objectives." Alexander then added. "I'm dividing the army. A smaller force of some twenty thousand men will be heading up the King's road. Their objective is to seize Moat Cailin. The rest of us will be returning to our ships, then making landfall south of White Harbor in the coastline between Oldcastle and Ramsgate. Since the bulk of our fleet remains in the Bite, our relocation should be fairly quick. Afterwards admiral Baudin will move her fleet to take White Harbor. Taking that city will cut the enemy access to a significant portion of their trade and give us a good harbor to land supplies and reinforcements in. Since the fleet of House Manderly has already been defeated or driven away upon our entry into the bite she should have clear access to attack the city. What enemy ships remain in the harbor will not hold long." He said.

"Lord Kronos, I would like you to manage the defense of the stretch of Kingsroad between the Ruby Ford and Moat Cailin. When the Queens army arrives you are to resist them. You don't have to destroy her army, odds are you won't be able to anyway. But you can tie up her resources long enough for us to do what needs to be done. Fight with care and conserve your forces. They will be needed. I'd suggest that you favor harassment tactics and ambushes over a head on confrontation with her forces. If necessary you will be allowed to call for reinforcements from the force attacking Moat Cailin, but do so only if absolutely necessary. Their mission takes priority, yours is to only buy time for them to succeed. Once Moat Cailin is taken you are to disengage immediately and retreat to the North." He told the upstart Lord.

"Very well." Lord Kronos said, nodding. "Although… I believe I should warn you my Lord. Moat Cailin has never been taken form the south side. Not by direct assault at any rate. The approach is simply too narrow. And with the Queen's army bearing down on us the time to lay siege will be very limited. I will do everything in my power to buy more time for us, but even that might not be enough to take the castle. If we are not careful we could end up with twenty thousand men trapped in a narrow lane with nowhere to go. Then there is the issue of the Crannogmen. They are a people living in the marshlands around Moat Cailin, aligned with the North since long before the Twin Kingdoms ever existed. As your army advances toward Moat Cailin, they will doubtlessly engage your forces. As I understand it they are not exceptional warriors, but they are good at hit and run tactics, make use of some very nasty poison arrows and know their homeland very well."

"With engineers and mages supporting our units I believe there is a good chance of taking the castle. If necessary we can send a supplementary force to attack from the south side, once the northern army is defeated. As for the Crannogmen, we have our own plans for the region that could double as a means of dealing with them." The Marshal replied.

"Major General Robespierre!" De Rozien called out, and officer walked out of the crowd, standing before the Marshal.

"You will have command of the force sent against Moat Cailin. Take the castle as fast as possible, as intact as possible and prepare it to be defended afterwards. Spare no effort in taking the castle. Understand this: By the time the Queen's army reaches the marshlands Moat Cailin must be ours. That place is the lock of the North. We will seize that lock and turn it against her army, keeping the door closed while we deal with her allies." Alexander told the officer.

Robespierre saluted, then returned to the crowd. The Marshal then turned to another person attending the meeting. "Ambassador Chaput. Once Moat Cailin is taken the device is to be installed there. You and your mages responsible for the installation will depart with the Major General's army and see to it. Before that you are to assist in the taking of the castle."

"Of cource my lord. It will be done." Answered a man in flowing robes of white and dark brown and a neatly combed, pointed black beard decorating his face. He was Aldéric Chaput, an Orlesian native, here as a representative of the Circles and Lady Vivienne. Aldéric was a staunch member of the loyalist fraternity, one that had opposed the mage rebellion from the beginning, a great supporter of Lady Vivienne's policies. Before the Mage-Templar War he had been in the service of some Orlesian nobleman whose name Ynessa didn't recall. As such he was a fairly accomplished player of the game, apparently enough so that Madame de Fer had felt confident in sending him here to represent her. Of course there was also the fact that he was a countryman to the Orlesians, which Lady Vivienne doubtless considered an advantage.

"What device?" Asked Hannah of Starkhaven, a short woman with wavy dark brown hair, wearing a turquoise dress Ynessa thought was slightly too small on her. She was Aldéric's opposite number, an ambassador on behalf of the College of Magi. She was a veteran of the mage uprising in Kirkwall and a bunch of other hard clashes during the Mage-Templar War and the Breach War that had followed. Serving in those conflicts had made her a highly experienced battlefield mage and an outspoken supporter of mage freedom, both of which had likely been factors that had gained her this post. Her differing stance on mages meant that she and Aldéric were in a constant state of rivalry, seemingly incapable on agreeing on anything. At first Ynessa had thought this to be a case of professional jealousy, seeing as both were here as representatives of rival organizations that were both competing for the Emperor's favor. But overtime she had learned their mutual animosity ran far deeper than that. Aldéric thought Hannah a dangerous renegade and likewise she thought him a traitor to the people of them both. Truly there was no pair that better epitomized the new divide that existed between Thedosian mages south of the Tevinter Imperium.

Aldéric smirked. "Only the means by which we shall negate the advantage the dragon affords Queen Daenerys and win this war for the Empire. It was commissioned by the Emperor around a year ago. But the theories and designs that were adapted to it are of somewhat older origin. They were begun in the old Circles, and resumed after the mage rebellion ended. It was an easy enough task to adapt those plans for the device needed in this war, although I'll admit the construction was time consuming."

"And why wasn't I informed that you had this? It seems straightforward enough? Wouldn't this have been important enough for me to know?" Hannah asked, directing her words to the Marshal.

The Marshal was about to answer but Aldéric made it there first. "It was no concern of yours, rebel. And I for one would not see you trying to destroy or seize this vital device to further your order's position. It would not be the first time you rebels did something irresponsible. But perhaps you would have known of it had you not made such poor life choices. Who knows, you might even have been helping to build it. Alas, you chose treason instead."

"Messere Chaput, that's quite enough. Enchanter Hannah, I do apologize for the secrecy, but the Emperor decided that it was best to preserve the surprise element of this thing and the fact that an invasion was in the works. We do not mistrust anyone here in particular, but the fewer people know of this, the smaller the chances of the wrong kind of ears hearing of this." De Rozien said, trying to diffuse the situation.

Hannah narrowed her eyes at the other mage, ignoring the Marshal's words altogether. Ynessa winced, realizing that the College mage had swallowed the bait hook line and sinker. "Name calling? That's what you have been reduced to? Seriously? I would think that man who claims to be as refined as you would at least try to do better."

"I do hope that you know what you are doing, trusting this… creature… with such a critical component of your plan. With the Circles behind the construction work… well one can only hope it will work as intended." She said to the Marshal.

"Enchanter, do I detect a note of jealousy? Perhaps you realize that your precious college could not replicate our feat? Perhaps you are concerned that on the account of that the world will realize that you and yours are simply unfit to speak for the mage community. Perhaps the best course of action for you would be to accept reality and cede authority to a more competent institution." Aldéric said smugly.

"I have had enough of you!" Hannah exploded. She pointed her finger at the other mage. "You will cut that attitude at once, or I swear I'll…"

"ENOUGH!" Alexander barked, shutting both of them up. "This is my war council, not yours, and this army has more important things to do with its time than to listen to your verbal duels."

"The plan will proceed as I have outlined." De Rozien continued his briefing. "While you are away messere Chaput, Enchanter Hannah will have command of the mages with the main army. Including those originating from the Circles."

It was Hannah's turn to smirk. Aldéric meanwhile could have been slapped by the Marshal and he would have looked less stunned.

"What…what? My lord, with respect this is not a good time to make jokes." He stammered.

"Agreed. But I did not make a joke. I need a senior mage directing the others. Since you are absent, she will be given temporary command of Circle mages as well, so lines of command are preserved. Of cource, and I do stress this, the measure is only temporary. Once your duties permit you to rejoin our main army the command of the mages will be repartitioned between the two of you based on their original allegiances."

"My Lord, I cannot permit this! My people will not follow her orders!" Aldéric protested.

"They will follow MY orders, as this is MY army they have been assigned to. And MY orders are that she be assigned overall command on a temporary basis while you are not here." The Marshal countered.

"She is a loose cannon! A renegade! She will use the people in my care irresponsibly! She will put them in harm's way just to further her own agenda." Aldéric argued back.

"One could be forgiven for thinking that the real worry from you is that we will outshine you by taking the accomplishments of Circle mages for our own." Hannah said.

"You're damn right I won't let you have the credit, bitch. I won't sacrifice my people's lives just to fuel your vanity." He shouted at her.

"You would rather have them serving yours?" She said in challenge.

Aldéric turned back to De Rozien. "Marshal, take personal command of my mages, or give temporary command to one of the Circle mages under my command, anything but this. I will not…"

"I do NOT have time to micromanage the mages, and none of the other Circle mages are experienced enough that I would give them overall command. And now you will both shut up and listen, or by the Maker you will both be strung from the nearest tree by your arms, left to starve. This war will not miss two mages." Alexander cut him off angrily.

The Marshal glared at the two mages for a moment to see if his words had had the desired effect or if he would need to carry out his threat. Then he spoke:

"I am not interested in the political difficulties of mages. And I have just lost the patience for it. I am not here to babysit either of you. I am here for a singular purpose: To lead a war. I have given my commands and I'll hear no more arguing about the matter. If you are unable to carry out your orders I'll have both of you removed from your posts and your mages placed under the direct control of my officers. Neither of you want that to happen, because it will reflect very poorly on your performance, both to your superiors and to the Emperor. I'll make sure of it. Your mutual rivalry will not continue in my presence, nor will it cause any more complications to my army. Am I perfectly, crystal clear?"

"Yes ser." The two mages said in unison, with forced calm, still seething at each other.

"Good." The Marshal said simply. "With that my commands are given. You can expect more detailed instructions to be delivered to each of you shortly. This meeting is adjourned." He then told his officers.

"My Lord, I believe there in one more concern we should discuss." Gagnon said as people were beginning to file out of the tent.

"What is it?" De Rozien asked.

"Now that the decision has been made to install the artefact at Moat Cailin, our army will be left vulnerable to the dragon. The device is the only one we have after all." Gagnon said.

"The device will be more useful to us at Moat Cailin, Spymaster." Alexander said.

"I know. I do not contest that. With some fortune the Queen will not realize our vulnerability, or that we will be able to kill her dragon if she does. But given the stakes I do not think we should rely on luck. I think we should consider seeking alternative methods to deal with the dragon, simply as a precaution. With your permission I will begin directing my resources to finding such alternatives." Gagnon said.

The Marshal considered. "I does no harm in being prepared. Very well. You have my permission to pursue this mission, and we shall see if actual need for the effort arises. I hope not." He then decided.


	22. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21; Talks among friends**

**Characters of the chapter**

**Bazyl Joubert, **Orlesian ambassador to the South Kingdom of the Twin Kingdoms

**Tyrion Lannister, **Hand of the Queen to Queen Daenerys

Tyrion walked through the streets of King's landing, followed by a pair of Unsullied. He stopped in front of the residence of the Orlesian ambassador, eyeing the entrance. He was here by the ambassador's invitation. As to why that was, Tyrion was not certain. Bazyl had not given any reasons for his invitation, only the instructions for Tyrion to "bring his own wine". He had considered declining the invitation, but he had been sufficiently intrigued by the request to change his mind. Given the current circumstances Tyrion might have considered it too dangerous to wander into the residence an ambassador of a hostile nation, but he had considered Bazyl a friend at one time, that had to count for something. And in any event the ambassador's home was swarmed with Unsullied, which was the best insurance he could think about.

Tyrion sighed before walking to the door. This promised to be awkward…

As soon as he knocked on the door it was opened from the inside and he was greeted by a manservant who proceeded to escort him through the corridors and halls of the ambassador's home. Everywhere they went Tyrion saw the ambassadors personal guards, warily eyeing the Unsullied that were there with them. The tension of the Orlesian guards was easy to see even with casual examination. The Unsullied were harder to read, but Tyrion had learned their tells long ago, and so he was able to see that they too were uneasy. This was an ugly situation in the extreme. One wrong move from anyone here and there would be blood.

"And the ambassador is made to live here now, day after day? I almost pity him." Tyrion thought as he walked through the Corridors.

Finally he arrived at the ambassador's office. When he entered Bazyl looked up from the papers he had been reading. "Ah, Lord Tyrion, you're here, good. Please, take a seat."

"I was uncertain if you would come." The ambassador said as Tyrion took the offered chair.

"I was uncertain of it myself. Why did you ask me here?" Tyrion asked, his tone formal.

"Oh, no particular reason. I just thought we should meet. It has been far too long since the last time." Bazyl said, offering Tyrion a wineglass, then opening a bottle to pour a drink for himself.

Tyrion gave him an incredulous look. "Ambassador, need I remind you that our countries are at war? And that our last interaction hasn't exactly been friendly? With the situation being what it is I don't think that a social call is appropriate in any way."

"I'm aware of that." The ambassador said quietly. "But I hope you understand that I was merely doing my duty that day. I harbor no ill will toward you or the kingdoms, and I assure you that our friendship was always genuine. That is why I wished you to come, to clear the air and restore our friendship, if at all possible.

Tyrion squinted, looking at the ambassador. To his considerable surprise Bazyl seemed honest, even thought he could only see his eyes.

"I see. What you ask may prove difficult, considering all that had happened. Still, I suppose that there is no reason for us not to be civil." He said, his expression thoughtful. "Tell me, why did you ask me to bring my own wine? Traditionally it's the host who offers refreshment, particularly if his objective is reconciliation." He asked then, lifting the bottle he had brought.

"Traditionally." The ambassador agreed. "But I think you and I agree that these are unusual circumstances. My instructions were a simple courtesy, my Lord. Bringing a sealed bottle of your own prevents any opportunities for poisoning. So hopefully that will make you feel more comfortable, because that is the duty of a host first and foremost."

"Oh." Tyrion said, lifting his eyebrows, having not expected his explanation.

"Of course I had no intention of doing any harm to you, particularly not here. With my home overrun by Unsullied soldiers any suspicious behavior on my part would result in immediate retaliation. And as I said I consider you my friend, so I have no interest in foul play toward you in any event. Even so, with the current situation being what it is, my word is insufficient, so I thought it prudent to arrange additional assurances."

As Tyrion considered his words, the ambassador finished his glass, then eyed the wine Tyrion had brought.

"Ah, Arbor Gold. You're indulging." Bazyl, said approvingly. "It might be imprudent to ask, but if you do not mind…?"

"By all means. Help yourself." Tyrion said, motioning at the wine. "Provided of course you aren't concerned for your own safety?"

"Of course not." Bazyl said casually as he refilled his glass from Tyrion's bottle. "I am your only link to the Orlesian court should you wish to negotiate. You'd be foolish to kill me. And in case you suffered a lapse of judgement I have already taken the antidote for most common poisons, and my personal doctor stands ready should something more exotic be used."

"You actually thought of all of that?" Tyrion said, surprised.

"The Great Game in my homeland teaches all its players to be touch paranoid. Everyone below you wants to usurp your position, while everyone above you wants to kick you in the head to ensure you never pose a threat. So one either learns, or dies." The ambassador said in explanation.

"Sounds brutal." Tyrion commented.

"It is, it is." The ambassador confirmed with a tired shake of his head. "That's the reason I accepted this post. Unlike some, I am not fond of playing the Game. So far from the halls of power I can minimize its effect on my life, since all I need do is ensure my assets at home are not compromised."

"You might be in for a disappointment then. We have our own version of the game hereabouts." Tyrion said.

"Indeed you do. But in comparison your version of the game is a pleasant card game among friends, whereas ours is the Master's league, played to the death. Indeed I daresay that our version of the Game would drive even the most diligent players hereabouts into madness within hours." Baizyl said.

"Is that so?" Tyrion said, sounding dubious.

"Quite. I have heard a local saying that says *when you play the game of thrones you win or you die*. With respect, allow us Orlesians to know better. There is no winning the Game. Everyone plays and plays because they don't want to get destroyed by their enemies, but eventually we all lose, and we are replaced by new players."

"The Queen calls that the Wheel, one where the players are the spokes, each at the top in turn as the wheel rolls on relentlessly, crushing the common people on the ground." Tyrion commented.

"A most apt metaphor from her. Far better than anything they have come up in my home country." Baizyl complimented.

Tyrion nodded, accepting the compliment. "It is one of her dreams to do away with it, to break the Wheel so to speak." He continued.

The ambassador was quiet for a time. "Quite a noble dream to have, shared by many in the world. In my country for instance the founder of the Empire had such thoughts. Our current emperor can be counted among them as well, being a soldier through and through, wishing that the Empire could be governed in the same manner as one commands an army. Yet in having such a dream I'm afraid Queen Daenerys may have engaged in a conflict from which even she cannot emerge victorious. So far every attempt in history has ended more or less the same way: The beast that is the Game retreats at first, stung and confused that it has been attacked. Then it assumes a new guise and reasserts itself, often with a vengeance. It may be that the Game, or Wheel as you call it, is simply too integral to the nature of humanity and cannot be destroyed without taking us right along with it. I wish her well in her efforts nonetheless. The pursuit of a better world alone ennobles us, lifts us above our base origins, even if final victory can never be attained. And who knows, maybe she will even find some way to prove me wrong? I would not put it past her."

"I'm surprised to hear you speak of her with such high praise." Tyrion said.

"I do not hate her." Baizyl said with a shake of his head. "She is a remarkable woman with dreams most of us would not dare to have. In truth I don't even support this war we have levelled against her. If she was fighting against any empire but my own I might wish her success on the battlefield, but her triumph will mean the death of great any of our sons and daughters, so I cannot in good conscience offer her that."

"If I may… when did you know?" Tyrion asked.

"Of the war? A few days before I was called upon to declare it before your Queen. We were instructed to remain silent about the matter until the first blow was struck, which is why I only confirmed the matter when confronted directly." The ambassador answered. "And before that I had… hunches. Little things behind the scenes that pointed in that direction, that made me suspect. I never knew who that potential war was directed against, however, or why. But the fact of the matter is that even if I had been confident enough about these suspicions to tell you about them, I would not have."

"You wouldn't?" Tyrion asked, frowning.

"No. Because that would have been betraying my people. It's not a very fair thing to do to a friend, but as an ambassador I have a responsibility toward my people. I must serve their interests before anything else. I'm sure that if our roles were reversed you would have done the same." Baizyl explained.

"…Perhaps." Tyrion asked after a time of reflection. "But what about these attacks that have taken place all over Westeros? These infiltrators smuggled into our midst, who have taken gods know how many lives, many of whom were notable individuals of vital importance to the realm?" He then then inquired with a calm but pointed voice.

The manner of the ambassador darkened briefly. "I had no knowledge that such a thing was planned against you. Information about an operation like that would be kept on a strict need to know basis for reasons of security. And so someone like me would definitely be kept out of the loop so to speak."

"However…" He added after a pause. "…as I mentioned there had been a number of markers that made me suspicious. An unexpected reduction in the number of bards and other agents available to hire was one of them, although the reason eluded me at the time. Marquis Briala was propably had a hand in making all of it happen. I don't know who else could have managed it. I suppose that as many agents as the Marquis commands an operation as massive as this would require additional support. And of course the majority of her agents are elves, which means there are only so many she could involve without raising suspicion, not to mention her desire to keep her people away from harm."

"To affect recruitment of agents in a way that gets noted…. the scale it implies is just staggering. This much I can at least tell you: The extent of this operation tells me that this was not some sudden idea that just occurred to the Emperor. Something like this was a deliberate, considered move, done after a great deal of planning and preparation." He added, sounding awed.

"I thought as much." Tyrion said, nodding.

"Indeed. The Emperor must have been moving for years, perhaps ever since he became aware of your existence, recruiting operatives for the cause and positioning them to where they could do the most damage. And no one figured what was happening until it was too late. It is really quite impressive." Bazyl contemplated.

"I'm not sure that's the word I would use." Tyrion commented dryly.

"Well, while I might disagree about the ethics of his chosen strategy I cannot argue with the result. Those infiltrators were brought here to cause chaos and disruption and this is certainly what they have done. Together with the traitors in your midst they have done much to hamper your ability to respond to the invasion." The ambassador said

"The irony perhaps is that the Queen foresaw a possibility of an attack by enemy agents, just before we received word of your invasion. If only we had thought of it sooner. But even so I would say a wise man would not consider us defeated just yet." Tyrion replied.

"Of course not. At this point anything could still happen. Still, I must say the Emperor made a brilliant opening move." The ambassador said.

"Aye, I'll give you that. But I think I'll refrain from congratulating him." Tyrion said, dryly.

Bazyl gave a short laugh. "I understand. Where I in your position, I might feel the same way." He said.

"I guess we'll have to wait and see what happens next, how this whole mess goes." Tyrion said.

"I guess we must at that." Bazyl agreed.

There was uncomfortable silence, both of them uncertain how to continue from that point onward.

"My Lord…" The ambassador finally said. "I know wars are an unpleasant business, and that it is not easy to foster friendship amongst such circumstances. If this war puts an end to our friendship, I will accept that as something that had to be. Even so, should there be some way for our friendship to survive this conflict I would prefer it."

Tyrion took a deep breath. "As it happens, I too would prefer for our friendship to survive this. You have been honest with me and I respect that. Given all that is going on I'm not certain that such a thing is a possibility, but I'd like to make the attempt. But officially I must keep my distance until the war is done. It would represent a very questionable image if I were caught consorting with an ambassador of an enemy nation in the middle of a war. Appearances are important, as I am sure you know all too well."

"Indeed. The language of proper appearances I speak better than my mother tongue. Very well My Lord, until the war is done we shall restrict ourselves to official communications only. And afterwards we shall see what remains to be salvaged." Bazyl agreed.

"But to commemorate our resolution I propose a toast." He said then. "To the Queen and the Emperor. May they find a path to a mutually agreeable peace sooner rather than later." He said, lifting his glass.

Tyrion smiled warmly, lifting his own glass: "To the Queen and the Emperor."


	23. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22; Against the Blades of War;**

**Chatacters of the chapter**

**Edmond Brahms, **Knight of Nevarra, Military advisor to the court of King Jon

**Oren Redforge, **Lord of the Upstart house Redforge

**Jon Snow, **also known as Aegon Targaryen and Jon Stark, King of the North Kingdom of the Twin Kingdoms

A clang echoed in the air as Longclaw struck a sword belonging to a man Jon was fighting. Both of the two men were on horseback and all around them similar scenes were taking place. This was the day of battle against house Warblade, to secure the vicinity of Winterfell before the northern army would move south to engage the Imperial main force. Jon and his opponent exchanged half dozen more blows before Jon chopped off the corner of his opponent's shield. Jon blocked one more blow from his enemy, then plunged his sword through his chest. His enemy fell from the saddle as his horse ran away, going into a frenzy of biting and kicking of anything that came near as warhorses were trained to do when their rider was thrown. Jon noticed that both friend and foe were moving away from him, so he directed his own horse back to his own lines.

The two sides were parting, the remaining skirmishes resolving themselves one by one, the survivors heading back to rally to their banners: for the northern loyalists the Direwolf on a white background, for House Warblade an orange banner with the swords crossed at the center with tips toward the ground, the center sword bright red, the other two dark grey. All that was left in the widening gap between their lines were the dead men and horses from their clash.

Now that the two armies were separated once again they began to reform their units, preparing for another charge. As soon as the cavalry groups were far enough apart to avoid friendly fire, archers from both sides sent arrows at the opposing army. Next to Jon a rider armored in boiled leather and chainmail went down, a pair of arrows puncturing his chest. Jon turned his eyes to the opposing army and cursed under his breath. "This is taking too long." Jon thought.

At first Jon had intended to confront House Warblade at the Dreadfort where they had taken up residence, only for his scouts to come to him, telling they had found it deserted. His scouts had spotted the enemy host moving southward not long thereafter. Believing that House Warblade was seeking to flee and join up with the Orlesian forces, Jon had quickly given his army the order to give chase, maneuvering his troops in such a way as to block the enemy's intended path, finally pinning them down in the region known as Sheepshead Hills. As evening set in after a day of pursuit the enemy had finally concluded there was no getting away and had turned to fight them. The days fighting had begun when the cavalry units had encountered one another in a terrain of low moors and grassland. The enemy host was perhaps a third of the size of his, but had a decently sized contingent of medium and heavy cavalry ready to descend into the valley between several hilltops through which Jon's army was approaching. Behind them House Warblade infantry were holding one of the hilltops, promising a brutal uphill battle to those who would try to take it from them.

Jon had sought to break the opposing cavalry, leaving the enemy main force without support and had ordered a charge. House Warblade had chosen the obvious response and done a countercharge. Unfortunately his opponents had proven somewhat more resilient than he had hoped for. Neither side had managed to break the other, and after a while both sides had disengaged to regroup and try again. This was now the fifth time in this cycle of attack and withdraw and all either side had managed to do was chip away at the other, failing to achieve a decisive result. And now Jon was running short of time. He would have time for one more charge, perhaps two. After that he would have to move his cavalry to the flanks to unfavorable terrain on the hillsides, or risk them getting pinned between the groups of infantry. Should that happen there would be a massacre that would destroy his cavalry. Of course the enemy would be losing their cavalry as well in the bargain, but he needed his riders more than they needed theirs. He still had the Orlesian main host to face, and he could not lose the best portion of his army before that.

Once his cavalry moved to the flanks he would have to try to turn the flank on the enemy and win the battle that way. The enemy would follow and try to stop him, undoubtedly leading to hard fighting on the flanks. Meanwhile the infantry would be fighting a pitched battle in the center. But once things went that far, who knows how much longer this fight would drag on for? That was the real problem facing Jon today. He already knew he would win today. His army's numerical advantage over his current foe all but guaranteed it. The question that now remained was how costly his victory would be. Every minute lost was one more the Orlesians had to conduct their own plans, every soldier lost was one more that would not be taking part in defending the north against the real invader. House Warblade had apparently realized this as well and based on their current tactics had made it their objective in today's battle to delay Jon's victory for as long as possible while inflicting as much damage as they could, such had been the tenacity of their resistance. Maybe they thought he would retreat if his army sustained too much damage, giving them an opportunity to escape after all? Or maybe they were simply spiteful, thinking to take as many northmen with them as they could before they perished. Ultimately their motivations in choosing their strategy did not matter, only the consequences born of it. Jon would have to change this around. He needed a cleaner victory today. The greater conflict demanded it.

"Perhaps I should not be surprised that House Warblade can offer such effective resistance." Jon thought bitterly. House Warblade had begun as a small band of mercenaries from Essos, attracted to Westeros during the War of the Five Kings. That was until they had chosen to settle in the North, declaring themselves to be lords of territories left abandoned in the wars before the formation of the Twin Kingdoms. They had adapted well to the ways of Westerosi warfare, becoming one of the toughest and meanest fighting groups in the Twin Kingdoms, their army raised and maintained by the people they now ruled over. Claiming land for themselves had not exactly stopped their mercenary ways. Instead they had sold their services in small conflicts in Thedas and Essos, integrating new lessons learned in foreign lands to their military doctrine after each time. They had even sneaked a few soldiers into some rivalries between Westerosi houses, most notably in the battle of Spring Fields, where their participation had been bought by house Kronos. In their battles they had never made an ideological stand, always fighting for the highest bidder. It seemed that today the highest bidder was the Orlesian Empire, seeing as they were now in full scale rebellion against their rightful King and Queen.

Jon had considered marching against House Warblade when they had first declared themselves. But the Upstart Houses had smartly banded together, promising to support each other, with the exception of the then recently formed House Stallion that had declared to only fight alongside those who the Queen commanded them to. To assault one would mean facing them all. No doubt the Twin Kingdoms could have won the rebellion that would have resulted, but it would have been a prolonged affair, hunting down the Upstart Houses one by one. And every day spent campaigning would push that much further away the sorely needed rebuilding effort, the war effort soaking up the needed resources. And even with Drogon aiding their cause many lives would have likely been lost in the affair. With their armies and countries wounded by years of near constant warfare, he and Daenerys had eventually decided to pursue a path of avoiding active confrontation with the Upstart Houses, choosing instead the path of tolerance, albeit with great unease on their part. It had seemed a doable thing at that time, since not a single one of the Upstart houses had denied that the two of them were the rightful rulers of the Twin Kingdoms. Even in the worst case scenario they had thought they could handle the Upstart Houses later on, when their armies had had time to recover, should there be need. Of cource that plan had not accounted for foreign nations appearing out of nowhere and creating an unexpected external threat. And so these Upstart Houses had remained, although neither he nor Daenerys had agreed to name them into the nobility. To do so would have caused an instant and violent uproar among existing nobility. Instead the Upstart houses had remained in a strange in-between-state, powerful and in control of territories but not recognized as legitimate powers in Westeros.

Jon could not deny their presence had had their good sides. Since none of the Upstart Houses had ancient and glorious bloodlines to call upon a lot of them had made their name in trade. The upstart houses had until now paid their taxes without complaint, helping to refill the emptied coffers in Westeros. Though he was loathe to admit it, he knew that the contributions of the Upstart Houses had got them past some very tough times in the past eight years. That had been reason enough to tolerate them even if they occasionally overstepped their bounds. Now Jon was wondering if allowing them to exist had been a terrible mistake all along. It had placed an unexpected enemy right in their midst and allowed foreign powers to use their own people as sword fodder. Six thousand men, nearly two thousand of them on horseback. If not for the betrayal of the Upstart Houses those six thousand could have marched with him against the Orlesian invader. Instead he would have to kill them, and lose who knows how many of his own men in the bargain. This betrayal was not one Jon would forgive easily.

Even as Jon was frantically searching his mind for a quick solution to today's battle his cavalry had almost finished reforming. Seeing no easy way out he almost resignedly signaled another charge to begin, until a sudden horn sounding in the distance somewhere to the left caught his attention. Turning his head in the direction of the sound Jon saw columns of riders charging in over the hills, smashing into the flank of the enemy cavalry. The enemy infantry was also engaged, apparently by foot soldiers and additional cavalry engaging them from behind, routing House Warblade Archers before carrying on to the melee infantry units.

Jon noticed the banner carried by these new troops: It was black in color, with a blood red anvil at the center, a red hammer striking that anvil above it. And among one of the attacking groups he noticed a knight with a purple shield with a crowned skull with a star on its forehead, remembering that it belonged to Brahms, being the symbol of Nevarra.

"House Redforge… he did it!" Jon said, smiling.

"Cavalry is to attack the left flank. We will add our strength to our allies. Infantry to advance and engage the enemy center and right flank." He told the rider beside him, who raised a horn to his lips and blew out a series of notes, relaying Jon's commands to the rest of the army. Jon spurred his horse to a gallop towards the enemy, his army following close behind.

On another portion of the battlefield the unit Edmond was riding with also made contact with the enemy. Unprepared to be attacked on their flanks, House Warblade cavalry fell into chaos, many of them killed instantly, others routed and sent fleeing, while the remainder turned to fight their attackers.

With his shield Edmond swatted aside a spear trying to strike at him, dodging another one moments later. He rode on, striking a shield of an enemy soldier hard enough to knock the rider off the saddle. Edmond then raised his sword, striking at another enemy cavalryman that came near him. His opponent had no time to block the Nevarran knight's attack. The blade struck his neck, the galloping horse yielding the blow tremendous momentum, resulting in the soldier being damn near decapitated, a geyser of blood erupting from the wound. A significant portion of the red fluid was sprayed on Edmond, some of it striking Edmond's face through the opening in his helmet.

The effect on Edmond was almost instantaneous. Giving a gasp of horror he threw himself back in the saddle, almost losing his balance and falling off the saddle. All color drained from his face, his breath quick and shuddering, he brought his horse to a halt, ignoring the cavalry of House Redforge still charging forward all around him. Feeling that he could not breathe he discarded his sword and pulled off his helmet, letting it slip from his grasp. He remained there, seated atop his horse, eyes glassy, a hum in his ears, breathing in and out, trying to collect himself. He was truly fortunate that no foe found him in that moment, for he would have been cut down with ease, simply because he was so distracted.

"Oi! This is no time for standing about! Get a move on, there's a battle to win here!" A Redforge rider shouted, stopping near him.

Edmond raised his eyes to meet the other man's, staring at him blank faced, and said nothing, just quivering slightly.

"Hey! You listening to me? What in the hells are you doing?" The rider demanded insistently. When Edmond still did not respond he rode off, leaving him behind.

Eventually Edmond managed to get ahold of himself, noticing that the battle had moved almost to its conclusion in his absence. Embarrassed he spat out a curse aimed at himself, briefly dismounted to retrieve his sword and helmet, then climbed back on his horse and rode back to the battle, deciding to still go and do his part as best he was able before it was all over.

He hoped that this time he was able to maintain control of himself and that his personal issues would not cause him any more complications today.

Meanwhile Jon was finishing off his last opponent of the day. Afterwards he took a look at the battlefield.

The attack of House Redforge had left House Warblade confused and in disarray, and Jon's army had exploited this to full effect, ending the battle in one swift move. The enemy was now in full retreat, scattering in all directions, and the way they were going about it told Jon that they would not be returning to fight in this war. This was helped along by the fact that his own soldiers were still all over the place, hunting down the stragglers. A lot of the enemy would end up killed, though some would be taken prisoner. In that case Jon would have to decide what to do with them. For now he was unsure what that should be. His anger was toward House Warblade itself and its leadership, not necessarily the men who served that house. On one hand they had committed treason by raising themselves against their King and the North, but on the other hand Jon was not naïve enough to think that all of them had had a say in the matter.

"So what should I do? What is the honorable course of action?" Jon thought. "Ultimately it will come down to what they believe." He then decided. Those that were here only because this upstart Lord had told them that they must, they might be forgiven, allowed to seek redemption. Those who served the enemy cause, who believed in it might prove irredeemable.

"Your Grace! We meet again." A voice interrupted Jon's musings. He turned in the saddle and saw a thick set man in heavy armor riding to him, carrying a one handed warhammer in one hand and a large black metal shield with a red hammer and anvil on its surface. All equipment he had made himself Jon knew, for he recognized the man.

"Lord Redforge. It's good to see you're here. At least the circumstances are better than the last time we met." Jon said in greeting.

"Your timing today was quite impeccable. I could not have easily flanked House Warblade without being spotted and countered. They weren't expecting you, so you managed it. You saved me a lot of time, and a lot of people. Thank you for that." Jon said.

"Happy to help. To be fair some thanks belongs to your Nevarran also. He made some great deductive work to put our scouts on the right path. Fortunately he knew where your army had been earlier. And it was his idea to attack from the flank and rear at the same time. I would have just gone straight at them and taken my chances. He even volunteered to lead the flanking cavalry so we could carry out the attack." Lord Redforge said, lifting the visor of his helmet.

"I must confess that I'm somewhat surprised that you're here at all. Given that mess between you and the Inquisition I had assumed there would be hard feelings between us." Jon said.

Oren Redforge chuckled. "Well, its true that while I may not be attacking the Inquisition again, my disagreements with them are far from over. And I still consider you to have been in error in your rulings on the matter. But these are different circumstances. I may not agree with everything you do but at least with you I know where we stand. You are a known quantity, whereas the Orlesian Emperor is a complete stranger to me, and judging by his actions no friend to the people of Westeros. Of course I did hear rumors that the Emperor offered to recognize the traitors as lords in exchange for their support, but I trust not such an offer made by someone I am not familiar with. Now, if you made such an offer I would be interested. You are a man of honor, so I know you would keep your word. Your offer would be genuine."

Jon nodded, understanding. "I would certainly consider giving such a thing to a loyal commander of forces who happened not to be a lord as of yet. I would think on it very carefully. Loyalty should be rewarded. Of course such a reward would have to wait until the end of the war. And of course I would warrant that the said person would remain loyal throughout."

"Of course. That is the very least you should ask for." Lord Redforge said, giving a slight bow of his head.

"Do you happen to know what happened to Lord Warblade?" Jon asked then.

"He is dead. His head happened to have a very unfortunate collision with my hammer." Oren said, lifting the weapon in his hands.

"Then that's it for his house. He had no family did he?" Jon said.

"No, he never got around to establishing one. With his death and the death or capture of his inner circle of officers House Warblade has come to its end. And given the amount of damage we did today I think the enemy army will disband. A small number might make it to the Orlesians, but not so many that it will make any difference one way or the other. A somewhat bigger issue might be stragglers and deserters who might resort to pillaging the countryside to survive. With your permission I'll leave some patrols in this region to weed out these marauders as they emerge." Lord Redforge said.

"You have my permission. But only hunt those who engage in such activities. Those who aren't harming anyone and simply wish to return home to their families are no longer any concern of ours." Jon replied.

"Understood." Orens said with a nod. Then he looked past the King and smiled. "Well, well. Look who it is."

Jon turned and saw Edmond on his horse, slowly trotting to them, his helmet on the crook of his arm. "Ser Brahms, I hear you performed well today in getting Lord Redforge's army here. My thanks for that." Jon said in greeting.

"Are you all right? You look a little unwell." He asked then, noting how pale the Nevarran knight looked.

"Yes, yeah, fine." Edmond mumbled.

"Say, one of my guys said that you just froze in the middle of the charge. What was that about? Fighting not exactly your thing?" Lord Redforge asked, bringing his horse closer.

"I…I…" Edmond stammered, clearly uncomfortable with the subject.

"Ach, I wouldn't worry about it lad." Oren said, giving Edmond a reassuring pat on the soldier. "Everyone reacts to such things differently. I've known dozens who have difficulties with this, some of them my friends. Good people, but they always need to do a little adjusting before they are ready for combat.

"You didn't run away, you obviously didn't wet yourself and you did your share of fighting at some point by the look of you. That's good enough for me." He said, pointing at the blood on his armor. Edmond glanced at where he was pointing, then quickly averted his eyes.

"Yeah… so I did." He said quietly.

"Ser Brahms, see to the state of our prisoners. Get my men to sort them out and find a place to put them in. They are to be brought together this evening, and I'll deal with them then. Meanwhile Lord Redforge and I will be dealing with the battles aftermath here. After you are finished on the orders join me at the command tent so we may plan our next move.

"Yes your Grace." Edmond said and rode off. Jon waited until he had ridden some distance, then turned his head to look at his retreating form, frowning.

* * *

"Assassins!? They sent assassins after my family!?" Jon shouted in the command tent later on, slamming a letter he had been reading a moment ago to the table. "Don't these Orlesians have a shred of honor in them? Is there anything they won't do to win?" He snarled.

"Soldiers and commoners might be a different case, but as far as their highborn are concerned I think their perception of honor is rather different from what it means here. In Orlais nobles do this kind of thing to each other all the time. Of course their preferred method is to trick their peers into social ruin, but from time to time they need more permanent solutions. And the Emperor cares more about getting results than how he got them." Edmond said.

"I sense the hand of Marquis Briala behind this move though, her way of helping the invasion along. Word is she was a spy before she began working for the Emperor and commands a sizeable network and resources to requisition more if necessary. It would be a simple matter for her to arrange an attack like this." He added.

"If that's true then may they both burn in the deepest of the seven hells for this. I'll have none do harm to my family without consequence." Jon said, cold anger in his voice. "First an unprovoked invasion, then treason among the Upstart Houses I have no doubt they orchestrated, and now this. It seems there is no limit to the atrocities they would commit against us. I just wonder what they have thought of next, and I dread finding out."

Then Jon sighed. "At least Sansa tells me that everyone in my family is alive and well, and that Winterfell was not taken."

"I do worry about Daenerys though. If the the Orlesians were bold enough to do this, they might have gone after her too. I'll have to send a raven to enquire." Jon added.

"We should also increase security measures here. They might not have attacked you yet, but they might try that later." Edmond said.

"Agreed, for myself and for the Lords here." Jon said with a nod. "I'll also have two hundred men sent to reinforce Winterfell, just in case. That's all I can spare. The rest of us have to press forward. There's still a war that needs to be won. Call the lords together, so we can plan for the next phase."

With that Edmond briefly left to fetch the northern lords. He returned soon, Jon's Lord's beginning to drift into the command tent after him. Some were old houses that had been in the service of House Stark for centuries. Others were newer, elevated by Jon to take place of Houses that had fallen in the terrible wars before the formation of the Twin Kingdoms. Being so new, the more recently formed houses had a hard time proving that they were deserving of the same respect and authority as more established houses. Still, they were better off in this regard than the Upstart Houses that were not even appointed by him and as such weren't truly lords at all. Perhaps that was why the Upstart Houses preferred to call themselves the New Houses and muddy the waters about their status. Not that that worked very well. Most preferred to call them the Upstart Houses to avoid that very confusion.

"So, what do you intend to do?" Lord Redforge asked after the lords had finally assembled.

"With the destruction of house Warblade the North is secure for the time being, leaving us free to move against the Orlesian army itself. The army will move to Moat Cailin. We will need to move quickly to make sure we can secure Moat Cailin before any Orlesian troops can get to it. Once we arrive we will send out scouting forces to determine the position of the Orlesian forces. Our next move depends on the actions of our enemy. If they begin moving north we will mount our defense at Moat Cailin, where the numerical advantage of the Imperials will count for less. If on the other hand they move against the South Kingdom we will pursue them and engage their forces from behind to support our allies that way." Jon detailed.

"Lord Glover." Jon called out, and the said lord stepped out of the crowd.

"I will give you command of five hundred men. You will ride ahead of us as fast as possible to Moat Cailin and prepare the castle for our arrival. Ensure it is ready to be defended if necessary. If the Orlesians appear you are to hold your ground until the rest of us get there . I know in such a case you would likely be badly outnumbered, but you must hold your ground, no matter what. Under no circumstances are the Orlesians to be permitted to enter the North. The suitable terrain should help you maintain control." Jon said to him.

"And Lord Glover? You will not fail me. Am I understood?" He added coolly as Lord Glover was about to turn away. Lord Glover nodded, suppressing a shiver, and returned to the crowd.

Jon's words made some of the other lords smirk, while others gave the King concerned looks. The tone he had used with Lord Glover was not one he typically addressed his lords with, and so it caught some of them by surprise. Lord Glover, however, was something of a special case. Twice he had failed to honor his House's oaths to House Stark. First before the so called Battle of the Bastards, where he had failed to provide his support against House Bolton. The second, arguably worse instance had come just before the Battle of Nightfall, when the fate of the North and potentially the world had hung in the balance. After the second time Jon had seriously considered having him sentenced for oathbreaking. But after the wars had come to their end he had ultimately decided to focus his attention on rebuilding, deciding that the North had sustained enough wounds without him adding more to it. Had Jon had another senior Lord on hand that he didn't need with him he might have sent someone else. But perhaps this was not all bad. If he performed well he would have an opportunity to redeem himself. Still, the next time he would fail him… would be the last time he would fail him.

"In the meantime Lord Manderly continues to hold White Harbor in response to the continuing presence of the Orlesian fleet." Jon moved on. "Because the Manderly fleet has been driven away and the Orlesian army continues to block the land routes our information on the goings on in the South Kingdom is very limited. Last messages received put the Queen's army somewhere near the Ruby Ford, but that is all we know. Once we have more information, we will let you know. I'm also aware that the Orlesian fleet presence has been choking trade, and that has been cutting into the income of a lot of you here, further compounded by the sealing of the Corridor to Westerosi ships. Rest assured I'm seeking the means to correct that situation. Even so, with the Manderly fleet gone we may have to rely on our allies to destroy the enemy naval forces." Jon said.

"And the Corridor, your Grace? Will we be attacking it to reopen it for our use?" One of his Lords asked.

"I'm afraid that objective will be beyond us even if we had an available fleet to transports troops with. We don't have the resources to fight an offensive war and defend ourselves against the Imperial Army, and the Corridor is designed to be all but impervious to any attack that we could conceive. The best way to get the Corridor open to us again is to win this war here." Jon replied.

"Well then, do any of you have anything to report?" He asked then.

When no one spoke up Jon nodded. "Then that is all for the time being. Lord Glover's group is to depart as soon as they are ready to travel. The rest of us will move out tomorrow morning. You may return to your duties."

With that the Lords began to leave.

"There still has not been any word from Lady Mormont. At this point it can no longer be explained by being late. I don't think she's going to show. Wonder what on earth happened? It's a real shame too. She's young but she had the makings of a decent battlefield commander, never afraid to speak her mind in council's like this and she was always reliable no matter what. I could have given her command of a flank. And frankly I would have been much more comfortable having her lead a vanguard force to Moat Cailin than Lord Glover." Jon contemplated to Edmond and Lord Oren as he watched the tent slowly empty.

"But there is no use in wallowing over could have beens. The situation is what it is and we have to make do with what we have." He said then. "Have the prisoners been gathered together as I instructed?" Jon asked of Edmond.

"Yes Your Grace. They are waiting for you." Edmond replied.

"Good. Then let's get this done." Jon said.

He followed Edmond to where the prisoners were being kept. The place was little more than an opens space surrounded by his soldiers. Further on there were a series of quickly constructed pens where the prisoners would be staying. The prisoners themselves numbered only a few hundred. Apparently the rest of the enemy soldiers were dead or scattered to the winds. Jon wondered just how many might have been trying to surrender, only to be cut down by his soldiers.

As he approached them the prisoners stood up, eyeing him warily. Jon observed them for a moment before he began speaking to them:

"Soldiers of House Warblade. You have fought well. But now that fight is finished. Lord Warblade is dead. He has no heirs, none to take up his mantle. With his death House Warblade has come to its end, and so you are now free of whatever obligation that bound you to him."

Jon took a pause before continuing. "Each of you had your own reasons for doing what you did. Some of you did this because the man whose land you happened to live on told you that you must. Some of you did this because you thought that you would be rewarded for so doing. And some of you had the misguided notion that doing this was the right thing. Ultimately… none of those reasons matter… because none of them change what you have done. You took up arms against your people and your kingdom. You committed treason. The punishment for treason is death."

"However…" Jon said, holding up his hand and raising his voice a fraction to quiet the sounds of fear that began to emanate from the prisoners. "…there is another option for you, a way for you to atone. You can fight for me. Renew your oaths to the North and aid me in defeating the real enemy facing Westeros. Fight for me loyally and never raise yourself against the Twin Kingdoms again, and at the end of this war I will consider your crimes amended for."

"Who will follow me?" Jon asked of the prisoners. After a moment of silence one of the prisoners took a knee. One by one others followed his example, until most of them were kneeling. A few of them, perhaps a dozen, defiant, remained standing.

"You will not follow? I will only offer this to you once." Jon warned.

"We stood for House Warblade. We won't stand for you. You are no King of ours." One of them said to him.

Jon nodded. "So be it."

He pointed at the prisoner's still standing: "Take them away. I will deal with them when time permits."

"The rest of you… you did the right thing. Welcome to my army. I'll let you know where you have been assigned shortly. Until then I would ask that you remain here." Jon said, then left, Edmond following him out.

"What are you going to do with those that refused?" Edmond asked as they were walking back to the command tent.

"I'll give them a few days to contemplate their choices. Then I'll meet with each of them privately. If any of them express regret then I'll have them sent to the Wall. Those that remain defiant will have exhausted their options. The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword, and so I shall." Jon replied.

Edmond nodded. "Hard choices, but I think that course of action is your best option. You give them as many options as you dare, and do as you have to do."

"I can't say I envy the situation of those that agreed to join your side either though. Poor lads." He added.

"How so? They get a chance at life." Jon asked.

"Aye, they will, but I can already guess your next course of action. You are not going to keep these former prisoners as a single unit. You know that would be too dangerous should they decide to turn on you later. Instead you will divide them up to patch the gaps in your existing units, ensuring that those you are not sure you can trust are surrounded on all sides by people loyal to you. They will end up as replacements for people they may well have been involved killing in the first place. They are going to be abused, you know that right?" Edmond said.

Jon nodded gravely. "My means are limited, and my mercy extends only so far. I never told them that the path to redemption would be an easy one. I merely told them of their options and pointed them in the right direction. The rest is up to them. Whatever hardships they face now are the price they pay for the mistakes they made."

"Of course, Your Grace." Edmond said.


	24. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23; Reds vs Greys**

**Characters of the Chapter**

**Aaron **Informer to Tyrion Lannister

**Daenerys Targaryen, **The Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains, Queen of the of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men of the South, Queen of the South Kingdom of the Twin kingdoms and Protector of the Realm

**Glorious Victory **Commander of the Unsullied stationed in King's landing, acting commander of the city watch

**High Septon ** Head of the Faith of the Seven

**Grand Cleric Beatrice **Grand Cleric of Westeros, head of the Chantry in King's Landing

**Tyrion Lannister, **Hand of the Queen to Queen Daenerys

"Qunari. That… is not good. " Tyrion said.

Daenerys laughed. "Tyrion, from time to time you have a spectacular capacity for understatement."

The two were standing on one of the balconies of the Red Keep. To Tyrion's considerable surprise she had arrived in King's Landing last evening to leave her son in his care. When Tyrion had expressed his astonishment at her sudden appearance her response had been a slightly amused *I have been getting that everywhere I go.* She had stayed overnight to give herself and her dragon a chance to rest before returning to her army. Now as dawn was breaking she was going over last minute updates with Tyrion before heading out, having already said her farewells to her son.

"Is everything under control in the city?" She asked.

"For the moment, but there are potential problems brewing." Tyrion replied.

"What kind of trouble?" She asked.

"Despite the Chantry writ saying this invasion is not an Exalted March, there are tensions rising between religious groups within the city. The High Septon has always been confrontational with the Chantry. To him this invasion is just the culmination of a war that has been going on a lot longer, one that he must now respond to. The local chantry believers make a logical target for him and his followers to lash out at. Feeling threatened, Grand Cleric Beatrice is responding in kind, agitating local followers of the Chant of Light to take up arms in defense of their faith and the Chantry cathedral here in King's Landing. She has not gone there yet, but I fear she may start spouting propaganda favorable to the Orlesian Empire if she is pushed much further."

The Queen nodded gravely. "I see. And what are you doing in response?"

"Increasing the readiness of the city watch and whatever other forces of ours remain in the city. I'm also keeping an ear to the ground, so if there is trouble I will hear of it in advance and will be able to put a stop to it. In the meantime I'll be reaching out to both sides to see if words can diffuse this situation before it blows up in our faces." Tyrion said.

"It cannot be permitted to develop that far." Daenerys interjected. "I need you to keep this under control. My and Jon's Kingdoms have enough to deal with without having a religious war within these walls. And I absolutely refuse to validate the Orlesian claims about us. No, this will be stopped in its tracks, by any means necessary."

"Then I have full sanction?" Tyrion asked.

"You have it. Do whatever you have to do, but keep this from escalating." She told him.

"Good. That authorization should make things simpler." Tyrion said.

"Hopefully so. But now I have to go, I have talked away enough time. My army needs my efforts in this war." She said and departed without another word.

It was later that day, as Tyrion was going over some documents in his study that he was approached by Glorious Victory, the Unsullied officer in command of the local Unsullied, primarily meaning the ones assigned to watch over the Orlesian ambassador's residence, and also at Tyrion's instruction the commander of the city watch on a temporary basis.

"My Lord Hand, there is a significant commotion at the Chantry Cathedral." Glorious Victory said to him, having long since mastered the common tongue.

"Commotion? What kind of commotion?" Tyrion asked, already suspecting the worst. Why would Glorious Victory have bothered him about this if it was not that?

"The High Septon has amassed a large number of his followers there, and the Grand Cleric has responded with her own followers. I think you are needed there at once, otherwise I fear a large scale riot is imminent.

"Shit." Tyrion cursed, his fears confirmed. "Then we must be off immediately. Call as many of the troops under your command as possible to be there."

"Already done My Lord. A squad of Unsullied will accompany us as well." Glorious Victory.

The two hurried through the streets of King's Landing, their ten unsullied escorts following close behind in perfect marching order despite the speed with which they were moving. Finally they reached the place where the sept of Baelor had once stood until the Chantry had purchased the space, building their cathedral there, greatly upsetting the followers of the Seven. At the time the Queen had not much cared that the Chantry had done this, having no interest in endorsing either faith, and not fully appreciating the extent of issues that could arise from their rivalries, not that Tyrion could claim to have known any better. And at the end of the day refusing the Chantry might have created as much trouble as accepting them had created, since the Chantry's purchase had been prompted by the increasing popularity of the Chant of Light. The Rivalries had already existed, and taking the side of the Faith of the Seven by denying the Chantry would not have evaporated them. The best they could do now was to deal with what was and prevent things from escalating.

The sight at the steps leading to the Chantry's entrance made Tyrion curse for a second time. Just like Glorious Victory had reported a large crowd had gathered, most of them divided into two roughly equal groups. The first group had gathered at the base of the steps leading to entrance to the Cathedral. Tyrion spotted the High Septon at the head of this group. If the man had a name Tyrion had never learned what it was, because following the tradition of his faith the High Septon had relinquished it upon his election to become *a conduit for the Gods*. His faith had been significantly impacted by the so called High Sparrow. Even as the fanatic had been blown to smithereens when the Sept of Baelor had been destroyed, some of his views and ideas had survived to influence and inspire the modern interpretations of the Faith. As such the High Septon and his direct followers were dressed in simple grey robes or in some cases similar black robes reminiscent of the High Sparrow's Faith Militant. Civilians accompanying the High Septon had more varied outfits, but even they had chosen modest clothes of mostly muted colors. The mob was armed with maces, clubs, knives and an assortment of other makeshift weapons. A few swords were present here and there, but not many, probably because the average citizen of King's Landing could not hope to afford such a weapon.

Opposite to the first group, on the steps themselves, were gathered the Chantry loyalists. At the center of the group was Beatrice, the Grand Cleric of Westeros, appointed by the Divine to that role after the Chant of light had gained a sufficient foothold in the Twin Kingdoms. She was standing there, arms crossed and glaring the High Septons mob, a stormy expression on her face. Even with that expression and even as she was dressed in the robes of a Grand Cleric to Tyrions eyes her appearance was far lovelier than any priest had a right to be. It was unfortunate that her personality did not match her physical appearance, as Tyrion had learned a long time ago. She was the only Chantry priest in the group. This either meant the other members of the Chantry priesthood were too afraid to come out or that Beatrice had commanded them not to be there, perhaps considering their direct involvement in violence inappropriate considering Chantry doctrine. The people around her wore a large variety of garments, but each had a common theme in a red and white sash worn somewhere on their outfit to denote their allegiance to the Chantry: On their necks, around their arms or waists, the place varied, but always it was present. In terms of armament her group was more or less equal to that of the High Septon's.

Tyrion was displeased to note a number of Goldcloaks within both groups. It appeared that the city watch would not be a neutral party in this confrontation, but instead seemed poised to tear itself apart over the issue. On the sidelines from these two groups there were more Goldcloaks as well as the Unsullied. The Unsullied at least could be relied to do what their Queen wanted and focus exclusively on maintaining the peace. Civilians who were not taking sides had also gathered to watch the commotion. Tyrion had seen riots before, and he knew that if it came to violence these people too would be dragged into it. Some of them because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time, some because they had one grievance or another they wanted to air, and some simply because they enjoyed the chaos and would take any opportunity to have it. If this situation was allowed to blow up the city would be awash in anarchy for days, and who knows how much damage would be done before order was restored.

This had to be stopped in its tracks. Right. Now.

"What is the meaning of this?" Tyrion said loudly, placing himself and his entourage squarely between the two groups.

"What do you think you are doing? Why are your people here?" He demanded of the High Septon.

"I am doing what should have been done a long time ago, Lord Hand. These heathens have finally shown their hand. Years they have spent corrupting people with their filth, rotting away the foundations of this country, trying to subvert the faith of our fathers, and our father's fathers. And now their armies have come to finish the job. An Exalted March. That is what has been levelled against us." The High Septon said.

"You know full well that the Chantry has denied that to be the case." Tyrion countered.

"I care not for their deceptions. The Crone holds her lamp high, and by its light their lies cannot cloud my vision. You should not heed their word either. They seek to confuse you, to make you weak before they destroy us and all we hold dear. I warned you and the Queen again and again of the danger, but you didn't care to listen, and so this disease was allowed to fester in our midst. But now that error in judgement shall be corrected." The High Septon said before turning to address his group.

"We will purify Westeros of their corruption, starting with the reclamation of the soil dedicated to the Gods and the tearing down of that edifice the heathens have built upon it!" He shouted, pointing at the Chantry Cathedral.

"You will do no such thing. I will not allow it." Tyrion said, motioning at the Unsullied and Goldcloaks, bringing them between the two mobs, facing in both directions in a defensive formation around him.

The high Septon stared at him, utterly shocked. "You cannot mean to take their side my lord. Not after everything that has happened. The challenge these heathens have made has gone unanswered for long enough."

"I'm not taking anyone's side, and I will not have you starting a riot." Tyrion said.

"Let him come Lord Hand!" Beatrice called from where she was standing. "The Maker stands with us! We cannot fall!" Her words made her followers cheer, but Tyrion merely rolled his eyes.

"You heard her. She wants a fight. I am happy to fulfill that wish for her." The High Septon said, smiling.

"Neither of you is attacking the other!" Tyrion said angrily just as the mobs were about to rush forward, the soldiers around him levelling their spears, ready to fight either or both groups if he but gave the command. The Goldcloaks were clearly nervous of the prospect but the Unsullied were calm and unflinching as ever.

"Come her, both of you, so I don't have to shout at you. Your cohorts will stay where they are." He said then.

"You can't expect me to treat with…" The High Septon began to say.

"I don't see what we could possibly have to…" Beatrice was protesting at the exact same time.

"You will come here and then you will shut up and listen to what I have to say, and I will explain some realities to you! Surely you are capable of that. Or if you cannot I'll move straight to my second option of solving this, and trust me, that is not something you wish to see happen. Either of you." Tyrion cut them both off. There was enough force in his voice to make both religious leaders obey and come to him, motioning for their mobs to stay back.

"Now then, listen carefully and understand." Tyrion said then, calm but stern. "The Queen has charged me with maintaining her peace in this city. A war may have befallen this country, but there will be no war in this city unless an enemy army masses at our gates. I will not have either of you breaking the Queen's peace. If either of you try I'll have the offender arrested, even if that means both of you and all those who would do your dirty work."

"You haven't the right to arrest me. I am a representative of the Chantry." Beatrice said at once.

"You cannot imprison the man who speaks for the gods. You dare not. By the laws of gods and men…" The High Septon began to say.

"I have every right." Tyrion interrupted yet again. "The Queen has granted me full authority to act on her behalf when dealing with this matter. To that end I will use any and all means that I believe are necessary. So yes, I do dare it High Septon, if you are dumb enough to force my hand. And by the laws of QUEEN DAENERYS it is illegal to incite a riot or urge an uprising. At the moment you are both guilty of this act."

A silence descended as the two realized their situation. They might be the chosen representatives of their respective gods, but the Hand of the Queen was clearly not about to be deterred by that. And if it came to it their groups of mostly civilians would be up against trained and better equipped soldiers, including the Unsullied, the very best of the Queen's troops. In addition attacking those troops would certainly antagonize the local rulers against them, which was the exact opposite of what they wanted to achieve in the long run. Taken all together it was more than enough to get their attention.

"Now then, since we are all on the same page… you have one chance to walk away from this. What I want you to do is disperse your mobs and never seek to confront each other like this again. Do so and I will let this thing go without pressing any charges. Otherwise I will consider myself forced to take action to put an end to this." Tyrion told them.

It was Beatrice who regained her composure first. "I'll tell my people to stand down. But only after he and his fanatics are gone from here." She said, pointing a finger at the High Septon. "And I'll not tell my folk to disperse so long as my temple remains at risk of being attacked."

Tyrion narrowed his eyes. "Perhaps I was not clear enough…"

"You were plenty clear. But it changes nothing." She cut him off. "The reality is that the Chantry did not start this mess. I heard that there might be an attack on the Chantry, and I responded the only way I knew how. I had no particular reason to believe that forces loyal to the Queen would act on our behalf. You haven't before, no matter how many times we implored you for assistance against this fanatic. We were simply defending ourselves, and that is what we will continue to do, unless of course you act in a way that makes it unnecessary for us to do it ourselves."

"I thought the Maker was with you. That you cannot fall. What do you need the Queen's troops for?" Tyrion quipped.

Beatrice narrowed her eyes at him in turn. "Don't play games with me, Lord Hand. You can ill afford to do so. Attend to the security of my temple by satisfactory means, or I will do so myself. Until that happens I have nothing further to say. If you wish to arrest us for this… you may try. But we were ready to fight the High Septon's zealots and if you refuse to be reasonable we are ready to do so against you as well. And then it will not be me and mine that have violated the Queen's peace. And if that is how you respond to a reasonable request, then perhaps the Orlesian aren't so wrong after all in invading to protect the faithful, doing what you would not."

"The Hand does not protect you because you do not deserve to be protected!" The High Septon interfered once again. "And you trying to use the Orlesian invasion as leverage only proves the point." Then he turned to Tyrion:

"My Lord, surely you see now that she and her supporters must go. They may deny it, but their faith lured the Orlesians here, and so long as they remain here to pollute our lands we are all in that much more danger. Join forces with me Lord Hand, and together we will…"

"Enough. There will be no violence here today. You should go. Do not come back here." Tyrion said.

The High Septon took on a disgusted appearance as he realized Tyrion's intentions. "You… you cannot mean to coddle them. You cannot let them get away with this. Not after everything they have said and done. Are you blind and deaf to their intentions, or in league with her? Are you truly that weak willed?"

"Begone I said!" Tyrion snapped at him, annoyed.

The High Septon pointed a finger at him. "You stand in the way of the righteous, trying to shield them. That I tell you is a huge mistake. You will regret your decisions this day. Because of them, or because of me. That much I promise you. And I swear you have not heard the last of this."

After that the High Septon stormed off, his followers slowly starting to trail away in his footsteps. Tyrion sighed, relieved that the crisis, for the moment, had been averted. Then he looked at the Grand Cleric again.

"He better not be right about this." He warned her.

"We will not be the first to resort to violence, although I myself am admittedly tempted to it." Beatrice replied coolly. "And as you well know the Empire being here was never sanctioned by the Divine. By her directive we are opposed to the war itself, not the factions conducting it. We have protested properly at the Empire's attempt to use our authority to popularize this war, and now we watch and await a resolution to this mess. Once you are done killing each other we will resume normal relations with whoever of you are left."

"And as for me? My interests in all of this are the protection and the wellbeing of the faithful, and improving the Chantry's hold here. Those are the things that matter to me. Beyond that I care not at all what happens to Westeros." She added.

"Cold words, particularly from one native to Westeros. One would think that a threat to your homeland would inspire a little patriotic spirit. With all due respect you don't exactly exude the image of a motherly caretaker like the Chantry likes to present its priesthood." Tyrion said.

Beatrice smirked. "Perhaps not. But Westeros has never done anything for me. The Chantry has. As far as I'm concerned I don't owe anything to any of you. But if you want motherly care, then consider this: A mother protects her children first and foremost. I am no different. Those who believe in the Maker or those who can be convinced to convert, them I will protect to my last breath. But the rest, those too stubborn to accept Him… the Orlesians can burn the whole country to ashes for all I care, so long as they leave the believers in my care out of it."

"If that's your stance, then by what right do you demand troops for protection? You obviously aren't friendly to the kingdoms. Why should I cooperate and give you what you ask?" Tyrion asked.

"Because you don't want to drive me into the arms of your enemy. The more the Twin Kingdoms push me and mine away, the more likely I am to turn to the Empire for my support. When I speak there are many who listen, and cling to every word of my oratory. The last thing you want is to turn every one of them against you. And because, judging by your actions today, you want to keep this situation from escalating into an open conflict at a later time. Whether you like it or not having protection for us is one of the best ways for you to ensure that. It will convince me not to add to the volatility of this situation by arming my own followers, and it will give the High Septon's mobs a bigger target than they can chew. And it will give you a chance to keep an eye on me, to ensure I don't do anything foolish. Not that I was intending to, but I suspect you will want to watch anyway." Beatrice said.

Tyrion looked sour. "I don't much care for threats, or your attitude for that matter… but I will think on what you have said. If I conclude that you have spoken wisdom then I'll see what I can do."

Beatrice gave a snarky smile. "Talk is good. Thinking too. But on their own they are not worth much. Show me deeds next and I will be satisfied. Until then I'm afraid it's just not enough." Then she left, going back inside the Cathedral, while her followers remained on guard at the steps.

"So deeds not words? Well that's rich coming from a priest. Isn't it the way of your kind to offer great many words without deeds to back them up?" Tyrion muttered to himself when the Grand Cleric was out of earshot. Then he turned to look down the street where the High Septon had retreated. "Then again maybe that is a good thing. When you act, the results tend to be utterly terrible."

He motioned at Glorious Victory to follow and left for the Red Keep. The Unsullied followed him, and as he left the gathered crowds began to disperse, the gathered people heading back to their daily activities, the Goldcloaks ensuring it all happened in good order. The only group to remain exactly where they were was the Grand Cleric's band of followers, refusing to go anywhere unless she dismissed them.

"Damn the both of them!" Tyrion cursed back in his study. "Daenerys was right. This is exactly the kind of problem we don't need right now. And the Grand Cleric… after all her bad conduct she has the audacity to ask us for protection."

"I take that to mean we will not be providing troops for that purpose?" Glorious Victory asked.

"Oh I'd gladly tell her to go to a hell of her choice with her request, but I don't think that is something I can do. As much as I don't like it, and although I'll never admit that to her face, she did have a point. We don't want her to be any more supportive of Orlais than she already is. And ultimately the only way we can stop this madness from spiraling out of control is to place ourselves between the rival groups, so they cannot get at each other. As such I'm not certain that we can afford to turn her request down." Tyrion said.

"We just have to figure out where we can get the troops." He then contemplated.

"Well, the city does have a sizeable garrison…" Glorious Victory offered.

"…Which for the most part we cannot trust." Tyrion said. "You saw Goldcloaks with both groups of fanatics. They have already forsaken their responsibilities by taking sides in this mess. If we send the Goldcloaks some of the religiously invested may end up in the guarding force, even if we try to filter them out. Those who follow the High Septon are more likely to attack the Chantry people than defend them. And the ones that have sided with the Grand Cleric she will have too much control over. They would be too likely to obey her commands if she has a change of heart and decides to attack first. We need people who will do their assigned tasks well and no more, and who will respond to no other commands than ours."

"Good points my Lord." Glorious Victory commented. "Hmm… maybe my Unsullied could provide for us then?" He then asked.

"They are a better option, but there aren't enough of you. Most of you are with Queen's forces, as you should be. The reason any of you are here at all is to protect the members of the small council still within the city, and to keep an eye on the Orlesian ambassador. Those that remain would be overwhelmed should these religious groups go to all-out war against each other. Plus sending you would be a political victory to the Grand Cleric that I would rather not give her. If at all possible we should find a way to give her the protection she seeks without giving her something to latch on to and claim we have taken her side."

It was then that a thought occurred to the Hand of the Queen. "Hmm. The ambassadors… maybe that is an angle worth pursuing."

"My Lord?" Glorious Victory asked.

"Oh, just a possibility that came to mind. One that I must think on more before I act on it. In the meantime I want you to double all the patrols in and around the city, as our initial response to this. Any violence is to be stopped immediately. Since we have been preparing our troops in advance, you should have more than enough means to do so." Tyrion said.

"Understood." Glorious Victory said.

Just then there was a knock on the door and a boy of some fifteen years of age entered the study, dressed in frayed peasant's clothing. When his eyes met Tyrion's he gave a quick bow. "My Lord Hand, apologies for disturbing you, but I have urgent news.

"Ah, Aaron." Tyrion said with a smile. Aaron had, at one time, been one of Varys's little birds. These days, having grown up, he had taken to caring for other such little birds, as well as raising new ones from the orphan's in King's Landing, in essence creating a small spy network of his own. The capital was full of children just like him, the legacy of Varys. In the employ of Tyrion he was the spokesperson for several such groups working for the Twin Kingdoms, within the city and elsewhere. In this way he was Tyrion's eyes and ears within Westeros, the means to accessing information others would wish to keep hidden and to hear of developments before anyone else could. In return for their services he protected them and provided for their needs.

"It's all right, you're not bothering us. Come in, please. What is this news you came to bring?" Tyrion said, motioning for the boy to come closer.

"The High Septon has left the city. He departed through the city gates not long ago, riding on the road to Oldtown in the company of several dozen of his followers." Aaron said.

"What?" Tyrion said, shocked.

"Why? And why Oldtown?" Glorious Victory asked.

"Before Aegon's conquest that place was the heart of the Faith of the Seven. Even today the city is a stronghold of the faith. And despite Chantry having a presence there as well, there the Faith of the Seven has the advantage. As to why the High Septon went there, he may be trying to move himself beyond my easy reach, so I cannot keep his activities in check." Tyrion explained.

"Indeed. I understand he was quite upset with your interference here. From what I heard he was raging about it from the moment you dismissed him at the cathedral until the moment he left the city. It's possible he's still going at it. Reportedly he called you a *heretic who has betrayed the faith to side with invading foreign heathens*, and that was the kindest of his choice words for you. As such I agree, if he decides to act against you and the Chantry I would think that Oldtown is a much better position for him to do so." Aaron said.

Tyrion nodded. "Very true. With the all the armies of Westeros engaged, we would have a hard time sending troops against him should he decide to cause trouble."

"We will need to warn House Hightower to be on the lookout for any activities on the High Septon's part, as well as any other city where he might be considering taking action." Tyrion contemplated.

"Here in King's Landing we will proceed as we have already discussed." Tyrion told Glorious Victory, who nodded.

"As for you Aaron, I will be having great need for your services and the services of your informers in the coming days. I will need to know the activities of both the High Septon and Grand Cleric Beatrice at all times. If they decide to start something I need to know where they intend to do so in advance, so we know where to concentrate our efforts." Tyrion said then.

"Of course My Lord. We are at your service. If you don't mind I'll get on it right away." Aaron said. Tyrion nodded and the boy left.

* * *

Later that same day Aaron was making his way through the narrow mess of streets that were flea Bottom. His steps were sure, as he knew where he was going. Several turns later he was standing before a wooden door of a small hovel, his way blocked by two thick set brutes. From his pocket he took out a white cloth with a pair of serpents twining together on its surface and showed it to the men. One of the men looked at the piece of cloth for a moment, nodded and let him pass, opening the door for him. Upon entering he saw that the hovel was dark, the only illumination provided by a candle atop a table dominating the room. In the gloom he noticed two hooded men occupying the room, one seated at the table, another leaning to the wall on the left.

"We have been expecting you. What news?" The man seated at the table said. Aaron nodded and placed himself at the head of the table opposite to the man. A chair was near him, but he chose not to seat himself.

"The High Septon has left King's Landing for Oldtown. His exact motivations to doing so are not known with extreme certainty, but in the light of recent events he likely intends to further his campaign of confrontation with the Chantry. It is possible that he is intending to move things toward open conflict. The Hand of the Queen received these same news with considerable alarm. Apparently Queen Daenerys has charged him with ensuring no further conflicts disrupt her kingdom while she is waging was against the Orlesian Empire." Aaron reported, keeping his face passive and businesslike.

"What is the Hand of the Queen doing in response?" The seated man asked.

"He has assigned me to oversee additional monitoring of the High Septon and Grand Cleric Beatrice. In case either religious leader decides to attack the other he wants to know of it in advance, so he can counter them effectively. He did discuss other plans, but I did not overhear what they were. I can find out of course, but that will cost you extra." Aaron said.

"Hmmmh. Well, perhaps that line of inquiry can wait." The man contemplated. "Do you know the High Septon's travel route? I'll offer a bonus for that information." He asked then.

"Of cource. I have written the information here. Also the size of his entourage and their available armaments." Aaron said, taking a piece of parchment from his pocket and placing it on the table.

"Interesting. I was unaware that you could read or write." The man said as he took the parchment into his hands, examining it.

"Lord Varys taught us in his time. Pragmatism on his part. In many ways reading and writing is at the core of what we do. If we didn't have those skills we wouldn't have been of any use to him." Aaron explained.

"I see." The man said, not turning his attention from the parchment.

"Speaking of being useful, this is for you, for your trouble." The man said then, tossing Aaron a pouch of coin. Aaron caught the pouch and immediately inspected its contents. He gave a satisfied nod when he had confirmed that he had been paid in full.

"You will not find us here next time. We are relocating our safehouse, laying low for a while. Don't try to seek us out. We will find you when your services are required again." The man told him.

"The Inquisition breathing down your necks?" Aaron asked.

"That is no concern of yours young man. Simply follow the instructions you have been given." The man said bluntly, slowly standing up.

"And one more thing." The man said as Aaron was about to leave. "Do not think that our relocation means that you can betray our presence to the Lord Hand or anyone else you might be associating with. Even if we are not here we still have many eyes, many ears…"

"…and many arms. Good for silencing those who say too much. I'm aware. I know how this game is played." Aaron finished.

"Good. I'm pleased that your self-preservation instincts are still intact. You may go now." The man said.

Aaron nodded and left. As soon as he was gone the man leaning against the wall moved to the first man.

"So the Hand of the Queen is trying to keep the different faiths from tearing each other apart, and the Queen's kingdom with it? I think we should to do our part to escalate that conflict." The first man said.

"Here is the High Septon's route. On the road he has made himself vulnerable. Put together a team and hunt him down, then leave behind evidence to implicate the Chantry." He said, handing the parchment to the second man.

"If our intention is to push the faiths towards open conflict, isn't killing the High Septon contrary to this objective? By all reports he is an advocate towards aggressive action against the Chantry. If we launch an attack like this and frame the Chantry, it might intimidate the Faith of the Seven, make them think the Chantry can strike them with impunity." The second man asked.

"There is risk of that, but I don't think it too great. One man can be reasoned with or intimidated into standing down, but an angry horde of zealots grieving over their dead leader will be far harder to control, particularly when they have been provided culprits to focus their anger on. Furthermore Lord Tyrion will likely be most upset with the Chantry as a result of this, viewing it as a clear violation of his command that there was to be no violence. He may even be driven to abandon the position on neutrality, effectively pushing toward the conflict he was supposed to prevent." The first man said.

"Unlikely. Lord Tyrion is very loyal to the Queen. It would take much for him to go against her directives." The second man commented. "But very well. It will be done. The High Septon dies." He then added.


	25. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24; The War of the Bear;**

**Characters of the Chapter**

**Bern **Servant to House Mormont

**Lyanna Mormont, **Lady of Bear Island

**Ser Caleb Threestones, **Knight of Westeros, Second to Lyanna Mormont

Lyanna peered cautiously through the leaves of the rows of bushes she was hiding behind. Her face was covered in ash taken from a burnt out campfire. Her armor and even the blade of her sword had likewise been coated with ash to keep light reflecting off the metal. Small plants woven to lengths of twine circled her legs, arms and torso.

Since being driven from her home Lyanna and her people had fled to the wilderness of her island. She had been doing what she could to organize resistance against the Qunari forces now in occupation of Bear island, starting with the people she had had with her, recruiting more as she found them. A few new Qunari dreadnoughts had showed up along with smaller Qunari transports, each bringing more troops and supplies with them. She was guessing the Qunari were in the early stages of a military buildup in preparation for larger attacks elsewhere. Her fight then was not simply to reclaim her home from these creatures, but to also disrupt or at least slow down the Qunari buildup and buy time for mainland Westeros to deal with their other enemies and come to their aid.

Understanding early on that the Qunari forces present were far superior to hers in term of numbers and capabilities, she had instead resorted to hit and run tactics. Nibbling at the flanks of the Qunari army, avoiding them where they were strong and hitting them where they were weak. Relatively speaking. That had been something of a learning curve for her, used to and trained as she was in direct set piece battles. Westerosi armies sometimes sent out smaller forces to raid the countryside, and ambushes were certainly a strategy sometimes attempted, but in the wars she had been in she had never been tasked with such. Her new war needed her to learn a new way to think and fight. Fortunately her cobbled together band of misfits included local hunters and others who gave her important lessons and tips, helping her improvise new tactics and strategies on the fly. And of course there had been Caleb. Ever her shadow since this began, he had been a great help with everything. Given the difficult circumstances, limited materials and people to work with, and the total lack of contact with anyone in the mainland, the help had been more than welcome. Indeed there were days Lyanna felt she might not have gotten anything done were it not for him.

Peering through the branches of the bush, what she saw was one of the Qunari internment camps, where they had been taking her people. This camp was fairly small one, a handful of tents alongside fenced areas where her people were kept. Crates containing supplies were scattered among all of it. What the Oxmen were going to do with them she had no idea, and she was not planning on waiting long enough to find out. This camp's small size and out of the way position made it a perfect target for her people.

Lyanna moved back and turned to Caleb. "I count about a dozen guards. Shouldn't have any trouble if we don't muck things up on our end." She said, keeping her voice as low as possible.

"The distraction group doing its job?" Caleb asked.

"Seems to. Gods be with them. I hope they'll be okay." She said.

Then she nodded. "Okay. Let's get this done."

She looked at the rest of her people around her. "Remember the plan. We are here to set our people free. Wait for me to move, then we hit them hard and fast, get the job done and leave before any more of the oxmen show up. Questions?"

When no questions were asked she nodded again. It was time to get to work. She briefly lowered her sword to the ground and put her hands around her mouth. Closing her eyes to concentrate she blew out a whistle, mimicking the cry of a bird, one of the tricks the hunters in her entourage had taught her.

Hearing the signal, an archer hiding among the branches of a nearby tree took aim and fired, catching one of the Qunari guards in the throat. Moments later other archers began firing as well, sending more arrows at the surprised guards.

"Now! Lyanna shouted, picking up her sword and charging forward, her people following at her heels.

To their credit the Qunari soldiers responded very well to the attack. Not one of them panicked despite the fact that a number of them were already dead, killed in the opening moments of the attack. They sought to organize themselves into to a single ordered unit, where their advantages would be greatest. The human attackers sought to do the opposite, to pull the guards apart, so a single Qunari soldier would have to face down multiple enemies at once. Both groups were partially successful, the Qunari forming into several clumps of two or three soldiers, surrounded on all sides by human fighters.

Knowing the Qunari soldiers to be physically strong and very skilled, the humans resorted to numbers and quick strikes, wounding the soldiers to weaken them until a killing blow could be landed. Having learned things from their first encounters with the oxmen, they tried to avoid hitting the parts of the enemy coated in their war paint. Even with these advantages some loss of life could not be avoided, and a number of Lyanna's people were killed, cut down by spear and sword. But the advantage remained with the attackers, and one by one the Qunari soldiers began to fall.

Lyanna soon found herself working as a team with Caleb. The two had spent a significant portion of whatever downtime they had training together to improve their skills. By now they had honed their abilities to extremely fine levels. As good as they were on their own now, it turned out they were even better when they pooled their efforts. They fought together harmoniously, completing each other's attacks with perfect precision. The flow of their movement was poetry to the eyes. Lyanna thought it quite beautiful in its way, all the more so because she was part of it. Three Qunari soldiers they managed to kill this way, and assist in the in killing of a fourth.

Fairly soon the last Qunari soldier was slain and the fight came to an end.

"How many casualties for our side?" Lyanna asked, cleaning her sword with a piece of cloth and sheathing it.

"Five. Not a bad result all told. Better than most earlier times. The surprise did its job this time." Caleb said.

Lyanna sighed and shook her head. "Still too many. With how few there are of us we need our people far more than the Qunari need theirs. And each time one of their ships shows up here a few hundred more are added to trouble us. At this rate we will be running out of people long before the Oxmen do. We've got to figure out a more efficient way of hitting them."

"Well, in the terms of a numbers game maybe some of the people kept here will be able to help us out?" Caleb offered.

"That's what I'm hoping for, and one of the reasons we came here." She replied. "When we have got them settled I intend to speak with them, find out which of them would join us in the fight."

"Set our people free. And have them collect as many of the supplies around here as they can carry. Our soldiers are to do so as well. Anything we can use. Anything we leave behind should be damaged in a way that it is no longer of any value to the Oxmen." She commanded.

"Let's get moving! We need to get this done before enemy reinforcements show up!" She said, clapping her hands together.

Her people went to work. Most of those they rescued were clearly grateful, thanking her people and breaking into displays of utter relief. Others to Lyanna's surprise seemed a little more reserved, but nonetheless pleased. But the strangest reaction came from a smaller group kept separated from the rest. Strange, because from that group there was no reaction at all. Even when the door of the pen they were in was opened they did not respond in any way. Only when some of Lyannas people went to speak with them directly did some of them react, slowly raising their heads to stare at them with blank faces.

Puzzled, Lyanna was about to go and take a closer look, until a woman they had rescued came to speak with her. "My Lady, thank you. Thank for freeing us. But… we need your help! They took our children from us!"

That caught Lyanna's attention. "Taken? What? Where to?"

"We don't know. They wouldn't tell us anything." The woman said, hanging her head, fighting back tears. "But they did it to everyone here. They tore our families apart, sent our children away, and separated us without any care or consideration to where our loved one's ended up. My husband and I are only here together because of happenstance. Many others were not so fortunate."

"Please my Lady. We have to have our children back. We can't leave them in the hands of these creatures." The woman pleaded.

"We will. I promise it. But I need some information. Anything that you can tell us about where they might have taken the children would be helpful." Lyanna said.

The woman became thoughtful, trying to comb her mind for anything useful. "Uh, well, they mostly spoke in their own language, but I think I heard them talking once about sending them to the… Tassan? Tamari? I forget the name. The way that talked made me think they were some group of theirs. I think maybe they wanted to handle their re-education separately from ours, so we couldn't interfere."

"Re-education? What do you mean re-education? What were they doing to you? What are these camps for?" Lyanna asked.

"They made us work. But that wasn't the reason they kept us here. They… they tried to convert us to their faith. No, faith isn't the right word. They said they wanted to teach us about the Qun, to help us." The woman said. "But they lied. They were just trying to control us. I know because of what they did with those that wouldn't be taught. Those who resisted too hard… they turned them into that." She added with venom, pointing at the group of blank faced people."

"The Qunari did that to them?" Lyanna gasped. "How? What do they do to them to make them that?"

"They took their souls!" The woman said, finally bursting to tears. "I don't know how they do it, but there's nothing inside them anymore! I'm so worried they'll do it to my children too! We can't let it happen to them. We have to find them!"

"I promise we will do everything we can to find them and rescue them, like we rescued you. I won't abandon my own." Lyanna reassured.

The woman seemed to accept her words. "Thank you again My Lady." She said.

Lyanna smiled and nodded. Then Caleb came to her. "My Lady, we are almost ready to move out."

"Good. Are they fit to move?" She asked, pointing at the expressionless people.

"They seem to follow orders well enough… but that's all they seem to be able to do. They don't do anything unless someone tells them to. It's like they don't have a mind of their own. That could be a problem." He said.

"Well if they can follow orders then they can be told to follow us. That's good enough for now. Let's get them ready to move out."

The woman looked shocked. "My Lady, you can't mean to take them with us."

"Surely you aren't telling me to leave them behind? You knew these people, probably better than I did." Lyanna asked, equally shocked.

"My Lady, I know you feel for them but it's too late. They are just husks now. Leave them be, or put them out of their misery if you've the heart to. It's the only mercy left to give them." The woman said.

"We can't do that. We need all the people we can find. And if there's some way to help them…" Lyanna tried to reason.

"There isn't one. The Qunari left nothing for you to fix. Please My Lady, I… we don't want a constant reminder of what might have happened to us here. What could still happen to so many of us." The woman said.

Lyanna sighed. "I'm sorry, but I have already made my decision. We are not going to leave anyone behind."

Seeing that she could not win the argument, the woman bowed her head. "Yes, My Lady."

Lyanna placed a reassuring hand on the other woman's shoulder. "I understand having them around can be an unpleasant experience, but this is how it has to be. If it helps, since they bother you, I'll find them somewhere else to stay, so you don't have to be in their presence."

"You should make yourself ready to leave now. There's a long way for us to go yet today. We will take care of you all. You'll see." She told the woman then.

The woman nodded and left, and Lyanna turned to Caleb.

"She told me that the children of the people here may have been taken to another location, although she did not know where. As we travel I want you to talk to the rest of them, find out if any of them know more about this. Once we reach camp we will talk to the people there too. Once we are done and we have clues to point us in the right direction we will send out scouts to look for this other site." Lyanna told him.

"Lyanna, are you sure of this?" He asked, lowering his voice. "I mean, I get why you wish to do this. I don't disagree with that. But as we discussed earlier our resources are strained. Even if we find the site we might not have the strength to hit it. And even if we do have the strength it will cost us more people, which you told me we don't have to spare."

"I'd like to make the attempt. I gave these people my word, Caleb. We have to try. Let's just find the place these children are kept, then figure out how to handle the next step. If we don't have the resources then we can go about acquiring them when we have a better understanding of what we're up against."

"Understood. Not entirely sure the gains will justify the costs, but I wouldn't want to leave kids in the hands of these Qunari either. I just wanted to make sure you understood what we were getting into with this." Caleb said.

"I do. And at the end of the day Caleb, our children are our future. I won't let the Qunari take ours from us. Those are the gains we seek to win, and that will make this worth the cost." Lyanna said.

"Yeah. I should go make sure that these mindless ones are ready to move and double check that we didn't miss anything critical." He said.

"Good. Go." Lyanna said, and with a nod Caleb went to attend to the matter. Lyanna turned around, looking about herself. It was then that she spotted a man standing nearby, just looking at her. Lyanna did a double check as she recognized him as Bern, one of her household servants. One of those that had not made it out with the rest of them when the castle had been evacuated. Until this very moment she had thought everyone left behind that day was dead.

"Bern, is that really you? They were keeping you here as well? Gods is it good to see you! I hadn't thought…" She said, smiling and taking a step closer.

She almost did not see the knife until it was too late.

Her smile freezing on her face she jumped back, pushing away Bern's knife arm with both hands. She made no effort to draw her own weapons.

"Bern, stop! It's alright, it's just me! I don't mean you harm!" She shouted at him, taking steps back in an effort to stay out of his reach.

"But perhaps I meant to harm you, bitch!" He retorted, lunging at her again. She dodged away, grabbing his arm and using his own momentum to shove him to the ground. He stumbled and fell, rolling in the dirt. Then almost at once he was back on his feet and swinging at her with wild swings.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!? STOP! STOP! BERN, STOP!" She screamed, scared and confused by what was happening. Still she wouldn't raise her own weapon against him, unwilling to strike at one of her own. Instead she continued trying to doge his attacks, pushing his knife away when it came too close. The commotion was beginning to draw attention, and some of her soldiers were now pressing their way through the crowds to intervene.

"Never. For the Qun it must be done." Bern said and launched himself into another attack.

"The Qu..?" She had time to say before Bern was on him. She flinched, turning her head to the side and closing her eyes.

Bern stopped mid-attack, coughing and gurgling. His arms fell to his sides, his knife falling from his grasp. Slowly he turned his head down to stare at Lyanna's sword buried in his belly, then raising his eyes back up to Lyanna's.

In the last possible moment Lyanna had forced herself to attack, letting her instincts draw her sword and strike at her opponent, all in the space of a heartbeat. Yet immediately after she regretted what she had done, looking at Bern with pleading eyes, trying to find the words for an apology. Bern began to sway, to then fall off her sword, landing on his back on the muddy ground with a squelch.

Lyanna dropped her blade, covering her mouth with her hands, tears beginning to stream from her eyes. She sank to her knees next to Bern.

"No, no, gods, no. What have I done?" She sobbed.

"Why, Bern? Why did you do this? Why did you make me do this?" She asked.

"For the Qun. A demand of the Qun, so they said. You had to die, so your resistance could be ended. But you proved hard to find, harder to catch. There was… an opportunity." Bern said.

"A demand of the Qun? I don't… I don't understand. They made you do this? They forced you to come here to kill me?"

Bern laughed weakly. "No. They sent me here to be an example to the ones here. I, others. We were to help them, talk to them with words they could understand, aid in bringing the wisdom of the Qun to them. And then… you happened. When you came here most of us fled to bring reinforcements. But not me. I believed I could get close because of familiarity. Close enough to strike, to cut off the head of the snake. I was right, only not enough so."

His words finally made it click for her. "You work for the Qunari? Voluntarily? They've turned you?" She said, horrified.

"They've liberated me!" Bern countered. "They opened my eyes. They exposed you for what you and all your kind are. You and all the nobles in Westeros. You tell us that you have a right to rule over us given to you by the Gods. That we must do what you say at all times. But the Qunari have revealed the lie. It's all a ruse, made so that the few powerful could leech off of the many, without ever deserving it."

"How can you say that? I've done everything in my power to do right by you. I'm out here right now, fighting for you!" She said.

Bern smiled. "It's a good ruse I'll admit. So good in fact that even you believe it, as much a slave to it that the rest of us were. But look at the world you seek to protect. We exist by your whim alone. You and the rest of the nobility of Westeros. You take actions to shield the people here only so you can keep taking from them, like a parasite does. Greed lies at the heart of all you do, even if you are blind to it."

"That's not true! I care!" She countered.

"The laws of Westeros bind us to you. You speak of the laws of gods and men, but I the end the only law that matters is the one you dictate to us. Even in the stories we tell the ruse is present. If the common folk are mentioned at all then it is in failing to rebel against the order you have established, of being cast down and punished horribly for daring to stand up to you. The Qun is different. In the Qun we strive for better together. In the Qun our leaders are where they are because it is the Qun's conclusion that that is where they belong. Merit decides our place, not our birth. If only you could see. If only the illness in your heart didn't make you rail against it. We don't belong to no lord or ruler. We belong to each other, and the nation forged in the Qun." Bern continued, ignoring her interruption.

"Traitor! You motherfucking traitor!" Lyanna snarled, growing angry. "How can you defend them!? Look at what they have done! Look at how much pain they have caused! Have you seen what they have done to those who resisted them!?"

"All necessary. All required to make them see. How else to do it? They have lived their blind existence for so long the transition to the truth is painful for most of them. It is a sickness in their hearts and minds, one that must be cured. And some sadly are too far gone to be cured. In that case the Qunari save the body, then only thing left to save, so even in that state their flesh can be made to serve the Qun." Bern countered.

"You've gone mad!" Lyanna exclaimed. "There's no help for you now. And I have heard enough of you." She said, standing up, retrieving her sword.

"Tell me where the children of these people were taken, traitor. Do that and I will ease your passing. Otherwise I will make sure you suffer before the end, for everything you have done." She said, her face stone cold.

Bern scoffed. "Threatening with violence and pain to get your way? Typical. But you might as well know. Because it changes nothing. They are no longer on this island. We told the Qunari that you would be trying to interfere. The adults were needed here, but children were not. And so they were sent into the Qunari lands, to be raised to the Qun."

"No. You wouldn't have dared!" She said, not wanting to believe it.

"They are beyond your reach now. They belong to the Qun, as does this island." Bern stated with finality.

Lyanna was quiet for a time, looking at Bern with absolute disgust. "Gods forgive you. Because I cannot." She said then, putting her sword through his head. Afterwards she found she could not turn her eyes from Bern's corpse. It was only a little while later she noticed Caleb standing right next to her. How long he had been there she didn't know. His sword was drawn, and Lyanna guessed he had been intending to come to her aid only for her to resolve the matter herself.

"It's… not enough that they invade our land and drive us from our homes. It's not enough that they hunt us down like animals. It's not enough that they kill us. These monsters have to turn our own people against us. To make us destroy ourselves even as we seek to defeat them!" She said, bowing her head, her face caught somewhere between grief and rage.

"No worse enemy than the one right in our midst, the one that wears a friend's face." Caleb said.

"Fuck 'em." Lyanna suddenly declared.

"Lyanna…" Caleb chided.

"Fuck 'em." Lyanna repeated. "Fuck all the traitors wherever they are, fuck Bern, and fuck the Qunari!" She said, before turning and taking several brisk steps in the opposite direction. Then she stopped herself and sighed.

"I'll… I'll mourn the man he used to be, not what the Oxmen twisted him into. But for now the wound is too fresh for me to consider forgiving him. As for the Qunari… it's one more thing on my list of things I'm going to make them pay for." She conceded.

Caleb nodded. "Do you… do you think he was telling the truth about the children?" He asked quietly.

"I don't know. Gods help me, I don't know." She said. "But if it was true, telling it to us would do no harm, because it is too late to do anything about it, and he was already dying. Either way we cannot rely on his words. We will proceed as we discussed earlier, and take a look for ourselves. If we find indicators that the children of our people are still here we will know that he lied, and then we will act. If not, then we have to get used to the idea that the Qunari committed yet another crime against us."

"Come on. We can't stay here any longer. We have to go." She said then. With no more words to say Lyanna's people left in a long column snaking through the woods, scouts screening them to make sure they did not walk into an ambush. Walking at the head of the column Lyanna kept her eyes directed toward the ground, deep in her thoughts. Watching her walk, Caleb could tell she was still upset about how things had transpired with Bern from the tension in her shoulders and the briskness in her step.

About halfway to their camp Lyanna stopped, raising her hand, which brought the column to a halt. She turned her head to look over her shoulder, motioning for Caleb to come over.

"Why have we stopped? There are long ways for us to go yet." Caleb asked.

"I have just been thinking. We can't bring this many people to our main camp. Far too big a target. Easy for the enemy to find, far too large for us to defend effectively. I want these people divided into smaller groups, here and now. Four or five in groups at least. Keep groupings of friends and family intact whenever possible. We are not the Qunari, and we will not callously ignore the bonds among our people. Spread out around the island, far enough out that the Oxmen won't be able to figure out where the main camp is based on their location, but close enough so we can come to their aid should there be need. We'll send them supplies from our main camp so they can get comfortable, along with a couple soldiers for each group to watch over them." Lyanna told him.

"That can be done if you want. But could this not wait until we are back at camp, sort this out there?" He asked, not trying to hide his surprise.

"No, it cannot. Because I also don't want these people to know where the main camp is. Not yet. Not until we are sure about them." She said.

"Sure? What are you talking about? Lyanna, what brought this on?" He asked.

Lyanna paused before answering. "…Today's battle has shown us that the Qunari have managed to turn some of our own people against us, enough so that they would do us harm. Bern was one, but there may be others as well. Some of them might be right here with us."

"You can't know for certain that is the case." He said.

"No I cannot. That is exactly the problem. Bern's mistake was that he was impatient. He revealed himself too soon, and in failing in his attempt he alerted us to the danger defectors like him could pose to us. The smarter among them will hide themselves, preying on out trust and our familiarity with them. They will watch and wait for a perfect moment to strike us down. Right now the worst thing they can do to us is to betray our position to our enemy. Our only advantage over them is concealment, which comes from the fact that we know this island better than the Oxmen. If that advantage is lost, then so will we be." She said.

"So that's why you don't want the people we have freed in our camp." He said. "Pardon me… but that sounds a little paranoid." He added.

"It does, doesn't it? But I think it's better to be a little paranoid than lose our freedom and our lives because of carelessness." She said.

"To avoid that possibility I have some new orders I will need carried out when we get back to camp. From now on no one is to leave our camps except for errands agreed beforehand. And when they do go on such errands they will be paired with someone else as decided by the guards I sent to watch over them. No one will be going out alone to make it harder for spies to get in contact with their Qunari masters. We will also need to send some of our fighters to set up secondary camps for themselves, only coming together when we are about to attack a targer. When our civilians and soldiers are spread around like that, even if one camp is attacked the rest will survive and will be able to continue the fight." She continued.

"Caleb, for the good of everyone this must be done." She said when he appeared hesitant. "I hate it more than anyone that we have to be this paranoid and suspicious of our own people, but those are the conditions the Oxmen have put us in. One is supposed to be able to trust the people in service to your own house, but now we know that might not be the case any longer. If we do not act on what we know, then more the fools are we. We are the last chance for our people in this invasion. And if we fall there's a good chance the mainland will be next. They are already dealing with one invasion, they won't be able to take another one. For all their sakes we can't take any risks in this matter."

Caleb was quiet for a long time. Finally he nodded gravely. "Okay. I'm not comfortable with this business at all. But I get your point. You are the Lady of Bear Island. We are sworn to your service. If these are the measures you wish to take, then we will see it done."

"Thank you, Caleb." She said, genuinely grateful.

"Lyanna, I've been meaning to ask… are you alright? Since the mission today something has been bothering you." He asked.

Lyanna laughed bitterly. "Alright? No. Hells no."

"I never would have thought that he would do what he did. Bern I mean. I trusted him once you know. I knew him." She said, crossing her arms and looking at the landscape. "He was the Master of Stables for House Mormont. He took care of all our horses, like his father and his father before him. And he loved what he did. Sometimes I think he liked horses better than people. People are complicated. People can be deceitful and cruel. Horses are simpler, and he understood their ways well. He was around since before I was even born. Eighteen years. That's a long time to know someone. He was there when I rode a horse for the first time, just a young man then." She said.

"I can't claim to have known him as well as you, but it sounds like he was a decent person at one time." Caleb said.

"He was. And the Qunari turned him even so. I saw the look in his eyes before I killed him. There was no regret, no remorse. Just a disappointment that he didn't get the job done. I don't know what means they employed to turn a man like him, but somehow the Qunari had him completely suckered into their ideology." She said.

"I also happen to know that he was married. Had three small children. A cat, named Max." She added quietly, her words making Caleb bow his head with the realization.

"What the Qunari have done will make this a war different from any other we have ever faced. This time we will know many of those we kill. They will be people we worked with, our friends and loved ones, taken and twisted into our enemies. So in short no, I'm not okay at all." She finished.

"Yeah, figured as much. Just thought you might want to talk about it. And I can certainly see why you are upset. It bothers me too. If there is anything I can do to help…" He said.

"There is one thing." Lyanna said. "I think I need to vent a little to get over this. Will you train with me when we get back to camp? That always makes me feel better. I know we just came out of a fight and you're probably exhausted. I'll understand if you say no."

Caleb smiled. "I'd never turn down a chance to spar with you. It's a done deal."

"Good. I'm glad." She said smiling as well. "But first we must attend to our responsibilities. Starting with dividing these people into groups."

"On it." Caleb said.

On hearing Lyanna's plan there were a few groans and complaints, but fortunately her orders were accepted nonetheless. As soon as it had been decided which group was going where they set out, each group accompanied by a few of her soldiers. As soon as the civilians were gone she led the rest of the soldiers back to their main camp, checking in with the sentries before entering the camp itself. The camp was a cluster of makeshift tents concealed with leaves and branched. To further help conceal the camp there was little rhyme or reason to the arrangement of the tents in the camp. Some tents were for people to sleep in, others to keep the supplies they salvaged or stole from the Qunari. There were no permanent fortifications of any kind since the camp was moved to a new location every few days.

As soon as her people were settled, Lyanna went to work to see her other plans were carried out. Small teams of her soldiers were sent to new locations and briefings held about the new restrictions to movement she wanted enforced. Being the first to follow her own rules she announced her intent to leave the camp to train with Caleb later that day. The attack against the Qunari internment camp had happened during the morning hours. By the time her errands for the day were done it was well past midday. As soon as she was sure she had no further responsibilities to attend to that day she collected her equipment and headed out with Caleb.

The site they chose to train in was a meadow. The place was quite beautiful: Tall grass, butterflies, the works, all bathed in sunlight coming from a cloudless sky. The classic scenery from any fairytale. Lyanna could not deny the beauty of the place although she was unlike your average highborn girl that might have been taken in by such. With evening starting to set in, it was no longer as swelteringly hot as the days typically had been lately, but a pleasant warmth still lingered. Still, because of the heat and because this was just training rather than full on combat, neither of them had chosen to wear armor. Instead they had opted for simple clothes as they trained.

At first Lyanna drove at her second hard, raining swordblow after swordblow on him, each attack marring the edge of his blade. For his part Caleb took her assault gracefully, parrying each attack with precision, occasionally managing to sneak in an attack of his own. But ultimately he made no serious attempts to turn the tables on her, ignoring several opportunities to counterattack. Instead he fought defensively, attacking only when the most obvious openings were presented, just to remind Lyanna to be wary of mistakes that would get her killed in a real fight. He knew that the real objective of today's training session was to let her unwind and work through the emotions of today. Their mutual training was already at a very high level, and if either of them wanted to add to that it could always come later.

Fairly soon Lyanna began to relax, a smile growing on her lips as the worries and the stresses of recent times left her. Bern, the Qunari, the general state of war in Westeros… all were distant things that didn't exist right now. None them mattered. The only thing that was real for her right now was this moment between the two of them.

She settled to a more relaxed form of fighting, style before power. Caleb took note and switched to the same mode of fighting. She was once again struck at the beauty and harmony of their fighting. Each attack was met with a parry and counterattack and on and on it went, their movements flowing together into perfection.

During the course of their dueling she became aware of the… look… that Caleb was giving her. There was an intensity there that was about more than just the alertness of combat. The way his eyes lingered on her whenever there was a moment to spare…

If another man would have looked at her like that she might have taken offense. But when it was him? To her surprise she found that she didn't mind. In fact in some strange way she was happy to have such attention from him. And in truth she had found herself looking at him in much the same way. Caleb was a tall man, as muscular as any lifelong fighter would be, but surprisingly slim in spite of it. Watching him move, the way light glinted off his muscles… taken all together it was quite intoxicating.

Lyanna had been aware of Caleb watching her for some time now, brief moments when he had thought she would not notice. But she **had** noticed, something that Caleb was apparently unaware of. It had started a while before the Qunari invasion, their friendship developing into something that could best be described as casual interest. After the Qunari had attacked things had hit a high pitch, rapidly developing into something deeper. Recent events had left little time to process or act on those emotions, and Caleb was apparently afraid of her rejecting him, given that he was yet to do anything. But it was real...

As their weapons met once again, Lyanna managed to send his sword spinning away with a twist of her blade. She grinned, thinking she had beaten him. Instead he grinned in return and dove at her, wrapping his arms around her just below her armpits. Lyanna gave a surprised and delighted shriek as they tumbled over, her weapon tossed aside, both of them laughing and giggling as they rolled in the grass. Eventually they came to a stop, Caleb ending up on top of her. It was then that they suddenly stopped, lost in each other's eyes. Lyanna felt herself blush, her breath hitching in her throat, her heart beating faster inside her chest. She could feel his hand stroking her hair, and that simple gesture felt so good…

"…It really was… a warm day." She thought. In the back of her head she wondered where that random thought had come from. Then she decided that it was irrelevant.

She raised her hand, cupping his cheek, then moving his head down, kissing him…


	26. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25; Battle on the River**

**Characters of the chapter**

**Daenerys Targaryen, **The Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains, Queen of the of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men of the South, Queen of the South Kingdom of the Twin kingdoms and Protector of the Realm

**Gendry Baratheon, **Lord of Storm's End, Master of Laws on the Small Council

**Grey Worm, **Master of War on the Small Council of Queen Daenerys, High Commander of the Royal Army

**Hamar Blackstar, **Head of the upstart House Blackstar

Grey Worm looked around himself, at the troops of the royal army arrayed into battle formations. The Queen and the dragon were not with them. He had waited for her as long as he could, and now there was no more time to spare. The fight to defeat house Blackstar and get across the Trident river had to happen now.

"First wave, advance." He commanded in the common tongue. A horn sounded, and the first units of infantry began to make their way to get to the other side of the river.

He was following the Queen's plan, only adjusting it for the absence on the dragon. As a substitute he had the Unsullied leading the assault, accompanied by dismounted Westerosi knights. He hoped that sending his best troops first he could minimize casualties during the first phase of the fighting. Sending cavalry into a fortified area could easily result in them losing momentum, then potentially facing a massacre by well positioned defenders, so beginning with an infantry assault was the only option open for him. Once the storming of the fortifications began other infantry would be following them in with the second wave, reinforcing any position where the army began breaking through the enemy defenses. Mounted knights and other heavy cavalry were standing ready to charge enemy units that emerged into the open. Archers would be suppressing the enemy and softening them up before the attack would hit home. Light Cavalry would screen their flanks during the attack, the dothraki foremost among them.

Scouts had still not found the missing units of House Blackstar, so the possibility of an attack in the flanks or rear was very real in his mind. He hoped that the light cavalry units would be able to keep the army protected during the battle, particularly their baggage train, the most vulnerable and precious component of their army. If the baggage train was damaged or destroyed, the loss of supplies would hurt the army more than anything else today could. It was the one way this day could still be a failure. As such he had moved the baggage train closer to the central portion of the army, away from harm. The potential complications aside he was very confident of his odds today. He had a large army at his command, against a force that was positively miniscule by comparison.

As soon as the first soldiers reached the waterline, arrows fired from the fortifications began peppering their lines. As soon as the first arrows began hitting them the Unsullied responded according to their training, closing together, the first rank locking shields and the ranks behind them raising their shields above their heads, into an impenetrable roof above them. The Westerosi knights were in somewhat looser order, but they had the advantage of far heavier armor than what the Unsullied used. The arrow fire proved largely ineffectual. Here and there a few were dropped when an arrow found a chink in the armor or a hole between the shields, but most survived, and continued to advance, nearing the opposite bank, while the archers of the Royal Army returned fire.

With some puzzlement Grey Worm noted that arrow fire was lighter than he had anticipated, wondering why that was. Still, it was a good start, and if the enemy offered less resistance than expected, it meant more of his men would live and that was something he would take gladly.

A harder part of the battle was coming up soon, when the first wave would assault House Blackstar's fortifications. Unsullied were used to fighting in well-ordered formations, each soldier supporting his fellows at his sides, creating a single cohesive entity, more than the sum of their parts. Their equipment and training all reflected this. But in the narrow winding mess of fortifications their formations would have to break up into smaller groups. Even alone or in small groups the Unsullied were extremely skilled fighters that feared nothing, but even so they were not as imposing a foe as a full, well ordered block of them would be. In small groups, in loose order, they were still as tough as nails, but they could be beaten. In the narrow spaces spearmen like the Unsullied would have hard time turning to face foes that came from directions other than their front, leaving them vulnerable to flanking attacks and ambushes. Once they entered the underground parts it would make things even worse, low lighting and likely very cramped spaces hard to navigate and fight in. The Unsullied would have to rely on the knights for support, their weaponry being at least a little more suited to the conditions they faced.

This was a complicated situation that could easily turn bloody if things went wrong. This was what concerned him, not because of the possibility of defeat, he knew his troops better than to worry about that. No, for him the concern was about the cost in lives to his men, particularly the Unsullied.

The Unsullied were his people, the ones he had known and trained and fought besides since the beginning. As such they were very important to him. There had only been one person he cared for more than this soldiers, and she was long gone from his life, stolen from him by the world and cruel enemies. Nowadays his soldiers and the work he did for Queen Daenerys was all he had to live for. Perhaps that was not the healthies way to live, but for him there existed no alternative.

Eight thousand fully trained Unsullied there had been on a fateful day in Astapor when the Queen had set them free and brought them to her service, many years ago. Since that day, a few at a time, battle after battle, their numbers had dwindled. The Battle of Nightfall was where the Unsullied fellowship had sustained their worst wound, half of their number evaporated in a single night of brutal slaughter. More had been lost after that day, and more would be lost in this war. And who knows how many conflicts there were yet to come, each demanding a blood price.

Knowing that their numbers diminished with every battle, Grey Worm had been in talks with Lord Tyrion and the Queen about a new kind of training regime that would allow him to begin training replacements for the Unsullied. Their mutual goal was to have a system that would keep the quality of the Unsullied intact, while removing castrating, child killing and other more brutal aspects of training devised by the Masters of Astapor. The final result would be training that would be tough and challenging in the extreme, but no longer unnecessarily cruel or potentially lethal to the participants. But that was a practical consideration, the means to ensure the Queen would not be running out of her best soldiers. Ultimately it would not bring back the the original Unsullied, merely substitute them with something that had approximately the same level of performance. It was not the same thing.

Grey Worm wondered just how long it would be until he would be the last of the original Unsullied left alive. The odds of him being the last one had significantly increased since becoming the Queen's Master of War. He would have gladly shared in the danger with his troops, helping them fight, but this was not a possibility. As the commander of the armies on the ground he had to stay back and observe the battle unfolding, so he could better direct the army to respond to developing situations. It was how it had to be, but not as he wanted it to be. How envious he was now of Gendry Baratheon, who had been given command of the first wave.

The first feet of the advancing units touched the opposite shore of the ford, and the first wave charged, running to reach the enemy fortifications as quickly as possible. Arrow fire from the Royal Army's archers slackened off for fear of hitting their own troops.

"Second wave, advance!" Grey Worm commanded. The horn sounded once again and the second wave departed. Larger than the first wave, the second wave consisted of regular Royal Army infantry and the men-at-arms of houses allied with the South Kingdom.

As the first wave neared the fortifications, Grey Worm noticed the enemy soldiers beginning to stream away from the position they had been holding, fleeing to the open field behind the fortifications. "They're abandoning their positions?" Grey Worm thought, now utterly puzzled. If the enemy wanted to give them a fight, then staying in a fortified position seemed to be their best option. If on the other hand the enemy had decided their circumstances here were untenable, why were they on the field at all? Was this display the enemy losing their nerve, or was there a strategy behind their actions?

"Tell our forces not to advance beyond the fortifications." He commanded, his instincts warning him to be on guard some trick the enemy were planning on. The horn blew a pair of notes, signaling for the first wave to halt its progress. The Unsullied and most of the Westerosi knights heard the signal and stopped as ordered but a few knights kept going, chasing after House Blackstar troops, caught in their own eagerness for battle. Grey Worm cursed, angry that his commands had been ignored, all the more because it created a dangerous situation for those who had ignored them. Their lines had been utterly broken by their rush and their passage through the enemy fortifications. Now they were just as scattered as their fleeing enemies. If anything deigned to attack them now…

It was just at that moment that another horn sounded on the battlefield, coming from across the river, answered shortly by another. At first Grey Worm thought Gendry was trying to signal something back to him. Then he realized that the tone was off. The second horn in particular was louder, more bombastic. And they were blowing no signal that he recognized. These were not the signaling horns used by the Royal Army, and to his shock Grey Worm realized that at this moment they weren't delivering any commander's orders to their troops, but rather they sounded in challenge.

Only moments after the horns sounded the first enemy units appeared, cavalry followed closely by infantry moving through the woods around the river. Most rode under a white banner carrying a black eight pointed star, but several units of cavalry rode under a golden mask on a sky-blue surface. From among these riders a shout could be heard joining the sound of horns: "Orlais, Orlais, Orlais!"

"The Orlesians are here too?" Grey Worm realized, the revelation making him curse again. This was not something that had been expected. Just before the battle had begun he had received word that an Orlesian force had been encountered at the twins, just before the bridge crossing the river had been destroyed by unknown means. After that they had lost sight of the Orlesian force, lacking the means to track their movements. Grey Worm had believed they would return to the Orlesian main force, but instead they had chosen to come here. Fortunately there did not seem to be that many Orlesians reinforcing their enemy, perhaps a regiment's worth all told. Still, for all he knew this was just a vanguard, with the rest of the Grand army right at their heels. If that was the case, with the dragon elsewhere and his army bottlenecked trying to cross the ford… it could be very bad.

The bulk of the attacking enemies, including all the Orlesians, were making a pincer movement, circling around their own fortifications, hitting the lead elements of the second wave in the flanks. In the center a smaller force was making its way straight to the fortifications, joined by the troops of house Blackstar that suddenly stopped running, turning on their surprised pursuers. Caught off their guard and disordered the Westerosi troops that had been pursuing the enemy turned around and tried to head back into better positions inside the fortifications. Those who were closest had a decent chance of making it, but many others were getting cut down as they retreated, paying for their overenthusiasm with blood.

"Reinforce the first wave's position with our reserves. Hold your ground and beat back these attackers at all costs." Grey Worm ordered. If the enemy broke through and cut off the first wave, the Queens strongest infantry units would be isolated and surrounded on all sides. If that were to happen the first wave faced potentially devastating casualties before the second wave's counterattack forced the enemy back. The men of the first wave did have the advantage of the fortifications they had just captured, but House Blackstar had a reputation for good quality troops, as did their Orlesian allies and if they did their job well they still had a chance to deliver the hurt.

"My Lord, look! Behind us!" The hornblower at his side suddenly shouted, pointing. Grey Worm turned and saw that a second enemy force had appeared just behind them, making straight for their baggage train. This second force carried no banners, no horns or battlecries had announced their arrival, which explained how they had been able to get this far without being detected.

"Damn. Order or light cavalry to engage the second enemy group at once! Keep the away from the baggage train!" Grey Worm commanded at once. The hornblower to his credit signaled the correct orders immediately, but he needn't have bothered. Khal Haggo had already spotted the second enemy group and led his people to face them, the Dothraki eager for blood and pleased that they were finally getting some action. A volley of arrows preceded the Dothraki charge, killing many House Blackstar troops, badly disrupting the enemy line before the Dothraki screamers smashed into them, spears stabbing and arakhs slashing. In a matter of moments violence erupted in the Royal Army's rear as the Dothraki made contact with the enemy, the bloodriders quickly beginning to surround the smaller enemy force. At some other time Grey Worm might have been irritated at the unruliness of the Dothraki, of them engaging without orders to do so. Right now though he was pleased by their initiative. Their swift response had likely saved the baggage train from destruction, which meant the worst outcome of this battle had been avoided. Now it was up to him to handle the rest. He continued directing his forces as best as he was able, continually turning his head to keep track of both battles.

"Hold your ground and let them have it!" Gendry bellowed, standing atop a low mound with sharpened stakes all around its edges, House Blackstar cavalry and infantry streaming into a trench leading into the fortifications just to his left, moving to engage the Unsullied company positioned some distance deeper along the trench. Behind their locked shields and their forest of spears the Unsullied were holding their ground for the moment, the enemy having a hard time breaking their lines in such a narrow space. Meanwhile Gendry and the knights that were with him had a good position to strike at the enemy as they passed by, just as the builders of this place had meant.

As an enemy knight rode past Gendry swung his hammer at him, caving in his helmet and crushing the head within. Bringing his warhammer around he managed to strike the next passing rider in the shoulder. While a glancing blow that didn't do much, the impact was nonetheless enough to knock him off balance, making his horse fall over and the rider himself land on the ground at the feet of the Unsullied, where he was promptly speared to death. Enemy infantrymen reacted to the threat at their flanks, trying to clamber up to engage the knights, although the steep slopes and the narrow spaces between the stakes made this a difficult prospect for them. Gendry kicked one down, then turned and smashed the back of another who was trying to climb up to the top.

Again and again Gendry swung his warhammer, each impact crumbling armor like paper, sundering flesh and bone into a pulp. As he fought he felt invigorated, energized, feeling his power behind every blow he landed. He was scared of cource. Only idiots and the dead felt no fear in battle. Yet he also found that he was enjoying himself. Briefly he wondered if this was what his father had felt in battle. Probably so, since he had heard that in his prime Robert Baratheon had been an incredible warrior, nearly unchallengeable in combat, someone who had a reputation for having a fondness for fighting, a craving for it. Gendry still characterized himself as more of a smith than a warrior. Back in Storm's End much of his time not spent governing was spent at the forge, working at one project or another. The armor he wore into battle he had made for himself, and those of his soldiers who performed their duties well and earned his favor were frequently rewarded with high quality weapons and armor forged by his hands as well. Yet at a moment like this he could not deny the allure that battle had for him.

Gendry caved in another foe's skull, then raised his hammer above his head, bellowing his fury into the sky.

Somewhere along the line he became aware that the enemy was starting to break off and retreat. Looking behind himself he saw that the second wave had managed to hold its ground, keeping the enemy from surrounding his people's position, the standing army created by Queen Daenerys proving its mettle. Meanwhile his first wave had managed to withstand the enemy assault very well. Other than the ones caught by surprise outside the fortifications the casualties sustained by the first wave were limited. Now the enemy had had enough fighting for one day and began a general retreat. The Royalists had triumphed over the Imperials this day, without the help of a dragon.

"At them! Don't let them regroup! Take them down!" Gendry shouted before jumping down into the trench, coming face to face with an enemy footsoldier who immediately sought to attack him. Gendry blocked the soldier's swordblow with the handle of his warhammer, smashed the butt of his weapon against his opponent's helmet, then completed his move by swinging towards his enemy's chest. The soldier raised his shield in time, but it did him no good. The warhammer simply sundered the shield and the man behind it. With no other enemy remaining in his immediate range he turned his attention back to directing his troops:

"First wave, advance! Reform once we we're out of the fortifications!" He ordered. And so the Unsullied and knights of Westeros moved forward, cutting down any soldier of House Blackstar that was too slow to get away from them. Behind them the second wave was moving forward as well, seeking to cut off the House Blackstar troops between them and the first wave before they could retreat from their failed encirclement. Many enemies were trapped and slain there, and the rest routed, scattering in all directions. House Blackstar troops in the center retreated in better order, though their lines were still left broken from their assault on the fortifications.

As they exited the fortifications, the companies of the first wave took a moment to reform themselves, not wanting a repeat of what had happened to their fellows in the early part of the battle. Reforming their lines took time however, giving the enemy a headstart in getting away from them. To his disappointment Gendry realized that most of the remaining enemies would be getting away. They had managed to put some distance between them, and infantry was ill suited to pursuing a fleeing enemy. If only he had some cavalry of his own here, it would make the cleanup operation much more successful. But all of those units were currently in the rear of the army, some fighting the second House Blackstar force, others unable to press their way through the masses of infantry separating them. The enemy force had been defeated this day, but they had failed to deliver a decisive blow that would take them out of this war. That would have to wait for another day of battle.

It was then, as if as an answer to his thoughts there was a loud roar above and behind him, accompanied by loud cheers from the forces of the Royal Army. Gendry turned and saw the familiar shape of Drogon flying low over the battlements, heading straight for the retreating enemy force. With the sight Gendry smiled and joined the cheers of his fellow soldiers, shouting her name.

The Dragon's wings were able to do what feet or even hooves might not have been able to do, overtaking the enemy forces in a few seconds of flying As soon as she passed the enemy force Daenerys made a sharp turn, Drogon unleashing a blast of flame. With no rain for many weeks the grass and other plants caught fire instantly, creating a powerful inferno. Flying onwards the Dragon carved a semi-circle across the enemy's intended path. Some foes were set one fire, but more importantly the maneuver cut House Blackstar's intended line of retreat, leaving them nowhere to go with fire on one side, the rapidly closing units of the first wave on the other and a full grown dragon circling overhead. A few were able to scatter and flee through the sides before the jaws of the trap closed, but the majority of the enemy were left in it.

Walking at the head of his troops, Gendry spotted the Lord of House Blackstar, on horseback trying to organize his remaining soldiers into a defensive formation. Gendry stopped his troops right in front of the enemy, then addressed this Upstart Lord.

"Hamar Blackstar! This battle is done! There is no escape, nowhere you can run! Surrender now, and you and your men might be shown mercy!" He shouted, his finger pointing straight at the rebel Lord.

In return Hamar scoffed. "Your attempt at deception insults us both, Lord Baratheon! I know the Queen's laws! Victory or death! Those were our choices from the moment we aligned ourselves with the Empire. My men know this! If we are to die here, then I for one choose to die as I lived, with a defiant shout at my throat and a score of foes at my feet! Who stands with me?!" Said he, and to Gendry's displeasure there was a significant number of affirmative shouts from House Blackstar troops.

"Don't be absurd! You'd be throwing all their lives away for nothing!" Gendry tried to shout him down.

"Lives already lost! This way we'll be heroes! May our sacrifice win this war for our allies!" Lord Blackstar countered.

"Men! Fight to the death! Attack!" He then commanded his soldiers, drawing the ax he wielded and galloping forward.

"Wait!" Gendry shouted, but the master oh House Blackstar would hear none of it.

"The world has changed!" Lord Hamar bellowed the words of his House as a warcry as he charged forward, his soldiers at his heels. Even those who did not share their Lord's suicidal attitude apparently decided that they had no choice but to follow, probably thinking the Royalist forces would not discriminate between willing and unwilling now.

"Arrogant, overdramatic moron…" Gendry muttered under his breath. "Engage! Take them down!" He then shouted, raising his warhammer once again. Then the enemy crashed into their ranks, and the fighting began again. Outnumbered and outmatched House Blackstar troops began losing numbers at a rapid rate. Still, they fought with the fury of men determined to sell their lives as dearly as possible, managing to take down several opponents. Seeing what was happening Daenerys joined the fray as well. But with her own troops so close by she had to limit her attacks to avoid burning her own forces. As such she was only able to destroy some of the enemy troops at the edges of the combat.

During the course of the fight Gendry came face to face with Lord Blackstar. Upon spotting him the rebel Lord turned his horse around and charged straight at him. Gendry stepped aside from the horse's path, ducked under the ax that swung at him and struck the horse in the flank as it passed him. The horse went down screaming, throwing its rider. Almost as soon as he touched the ground Lord Hamar was back on his feet, charging at Gendry. The Lord of the Stormlands blocked the first blow that was coming his way, then took a half step back so he'd have room to wield his hammer. His first blow crumpled the corner of his opponent's shield but failed to hit the man himself. Nonetheless the attack was enough to stagger his enemy, forcing him back. His next attack went low, shattering his foe's knee, making Lord Hamar scream and fall over. Then, as Lord Blackstar clambered to a sitting position and raised his arm for one last attack, Gendry's third strike dislocated the Upstart Lord's shoulder, making him scream a second time, unable to attack as his arm fell limp to his side.

Around the two the fight was coming to an end. The final stand of house Blackstar had ultimately lasted for only a few bloody minutes. In the end only a handful of rebel soldiers disobeyed their Lord's final command and surrendered to the Royalist forces.

Hamar looked around himself, visibly deflating as he understood the situation. "Well, that is it then. Well fought my lord. You are an exceptional fighter." He said between his grimaces, his still functional hand holding on to his injured shoulder. Obviously he was in significant pain.

"My compliments also to the Queen and commander Grey Worm for their innovative strategy. It was clever of them to save the dragon until later. Completely messed up my strategy, made me improvise. I had left only a token force to hold the fortifications, thinking to evacuate them before the Queen brought her beast on our heads, then counterattack as you worked your way around the inferno. Fight in narrow lanes, where your numbers count for less. Fight close, so the dragon cannot attack us without incinerating your own troops. Send a force to attack from behind to distract you and hit targets of opportunity. But you had anticipated it all." He added. Then he noted Gendry's expression.

"Oh. The dragon not being there in the beginning was not intentional was it? Something happened. I guess I'll never get to know the specifics." He said, amused.

"No, I guess you won't." Gendry said, stone faced.

"You fool. You absolute fool. None of this needed to happen. You could had at least saved your men." Gendry scolded him.

"On the contrary, I maintain that this had to happen. This battle, the rebellion of the New Houses, all of it. Anyway, it's done now. And so, I believe, am I. I knew this day could end badly. I had prepared myself for that." Hamar said. "At least my wife and children are safe." He added with a sigh.

"Safe?" Gendry asked.

"With my father, to be moved to Orlais at the first opportunity. Perhaps already on their way there. They will be safe there. The Queen's arm is long, but not so long that she could reach them there I think. You may get me. You may even get my father. But you will not get the rest of my family, whatever happens." Hamar explained.

"Lord Baratheon, I would now ask that you finish what you started. Give me a clean end." He said then.

"I'm not sure it's my place to judge you." Gendry replied.

"I am already judged by you, and her. Give me to the Queen and it will end the same exact way, except I'll have to listen to a lengthy lecture about my *foul* deeds. With my injuries I think I haven't the patience to listen to it. I am done, and all I am asking for is an end. I fought hard and bravely, if I do say so myself. I think I've earned the dignity of a quick death if nothing more." Hamar countered.

"You are the Queen's Master of Laws, Lord Baratheon. Dispense the judgement her laws demand for my deeds. Please." He urged.

Gendry considered. "As you will." He then said with a shrug, then without another word he brought his hammer down on the rebel Lord's chest, ending his life in an instant.

Gendry looked around himself, noting that Drogon had landed now that the battle was over, and that the Queen was no longer on the Dragon's back. Gendry walked off to seek her out. He found her walking amongst the bodies, observing the aftermath of the battle. When she noticed him approach she nodded at him:

"Gendry. It seems I got here just as you got this battle wrapped up. My apologies for being late. How did things go?" She said.

"It got a little bit more complicated than was intended, but I think we did okay, no serious casualties for our side. We will know for certain once we hear from Grey Worm. He probably has a much cleaner picture of the overall situation." He replied.

"And your delay may have actually worked in our favor based on what Lord Blackstar told me." He added.

"Really? And where is Lord Blackstar?" She asked.

"He is dead." He said at once.

Daenerys looked mildly surprised. "Oh. Your doing?" She asked.

Gendry nodded. "Well. I might have wished to deal with him myself. But at least it's done. Good job." She said then.

"Your Grace… I was wondering… what do you wish done with House Blackstar troops that surrendered to us?" Gendry asked.

Daenerys's face darkened somewhat, as if this was a subject she didn't want to talk about. "I believe our laws are clear on the matter. Treason cannot go unpunished."

"The law is clear." Gendry agreed. "But even so I thought we should consider other possibilities."

"Why? Explain." She asked.

"These people fought to the death because they thought they were going to get executed anyway. If all the Upstart Houses think the same this will be considerably more difficult for our side. A man who believes his choices consist of victory or death will fight harder than any other. I think we will want to establish that standing down is an option, at least for the rank and file." He said.

"It… is not a terrible point." She said. "A bit more calculating than I expected of you. But that is not the only reason you brought this up is it?" she added with a smirk.

Briefly he smiled at how perceptive she was, then shook his head. "No. As far as my opinion goes the person most responsible for this House's betrayal has already paid for his crime. The rest are in my view less responsible, and so deserve a less severe punishment. As someone who was once part of the common folk I know some end up on the wrong side because of happenstance. Most are only invested in fighting to protect their families and their livelihoods, while often ignorant of the highborn politics involved in these wars. Some don't even get to choose that."

The Queen went quiet at that. "To tell you the truth I have been wrestling with myself with what to do when this day came. Treason is the worst of the crimes one can commit. Treason tears us apart, rots the very foundations we have worked so hard to build. It's the one thing I cannot allow. There has to be a response to that. One severe enough that Westeros understands that this will not be tolerated. At the same time I understand what you are saying. These people are not the ones that led them here. Their crime was in the following. And as you pointed out I don't know their reasons for so doing. So what to do?" She said finally.

Another lengthy pause followed as she considered what possibilities were available to her. "There is a place though; a place where to send them." She said then.

"Tell these prisoners they have choice before them. They can choose the ax, or they can choose to live in exile in the lands beyond the wall, forbidden to return here on the penalty of death. These days those lands are not as inhospitable as before, and it turns out the lands beyond the wall are largely unsettled. Those who choose to go there will be free to survive if they can, and away from our lands they will trouble us no more. At the same time they will have to live apart from their families and the lands they were raised in. That is penalty enough for their crimes to send the message I need to send, and it is as lenient as I dare be." She told him.

"Then that is what shall be done." He said with a grim nod.

"Of course we will have to wait until the war ends and the travel routes clear to carry out this sentence. Those who pick exile should be sent in the direction of the capital. Maybe they can be put to work in the meantime. Our kingdom could certainly use the labor." She added.

"Say, is that the weapon that I think it is?" Daenerys changed the subject, pointing at his hammer.

"It is indeed." He said, showing the weapon to her.

"I remember giving the order to lift it from the armory and deliver it for you. But this is the first time I have seen it with my own eyes. It does look menacing, doesn't it? And not just because of its history." She said.

She raised her hand to touch the head of the weapon. "The weapon that ended Rhaegar's life. At this very river crossing no less. I can almost picture the battle in my mind. If we had an eyewitness or a Maester here they could probably point out the exact spot where the killing blow was landed. And in the service your father I have no doubt it would have ended more Targaryen lives had it found them." She said in contemplation.

"But I am glad the weapon has found a better purpose in your hands. Perhaps there is a form of poetic justice there. That a weapon used to slay a Targaryen has now been wielded in the same place to serve another Targaryen. One more way to mend the past. And a good way to celebrate the new friendship between our houses." She added with a smile.

Gendry smiled as well and gave a bow of his head.

"Take care of matters here. Afterwards I will see you in the next war council meeting." She said, then departed back towards Drogon. Gendry returned to work, moving his troops back to their main force, tending to the needs of the army alongside Grey Worm. Upon returning to camp they discovered that it had been ravaged. Apparently the flanking House Blackstar forces had hit the camp before trying their assault on their baggage train, destroying several tents and killing some of the civilians that had been following the army. Fortunately the enemy had swiftly realized that their main prize was elsewhere and had moved on, causing only sporadic damage to the camp. Still the damage inflicted did cause a slight morale dip amongst the troops. But the survival of their supplies soon restored their spirits, particularly as an extra ration of beverages was authorized to celebrate the day's victory. Gendry was quietly thankful that Grey Worm had realized that enemy troops were unaccounted for and had planned accordingly. Otherwise the situation might have been much worse.

He delivered the Queen's terms to House Blackstar prisoners that evening. It was then that he discovered that those that had surrendered to him were the only prisoners of House Blackstar that they had. The flanking force had been massacred to the last man by the Dothraki, the bloodriders apparently seeing no reason to spare lives. The majority of the remaining prisoners preferred the choice of exile, which did not surprise him. They had chosen life in surrendering, so they chose life now. A few thought exile a death sentence as well, and so refused the offer. Gendry had the soldiers attend to their deaths quickly, cleanly, but with no great enthusiasm on his part. It was an unpleasant task, but one that nonetheless needed to be done.

The law was clear, after all.


	27. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26; Taking stock and making choices**

**Characters of the Chapter**

**Daenerys Targaryen, **The Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains, Queen of the of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men of the South, Queen of the South Kingdom of the Twin kingdoms and Protector of the Realm

**Derek Cobbler, **Kirkwall ambassador to the South Kingdom of the Twin Kingdoms

**Gendry Baratheon, **Lord of Storm's End, Master of Laws on the Small Council

**Grey Worm, **Master of War on the Small Council of Queen Daenerys, High Commander of the Royal Army

**Haggo Stallion **Dothraki Khal, Lord of upstart house Stallion

**Isabela **Sailor on the Seadancer, former Captain of the Siren'sCall II, admiral of the Felicisima armada (self-appointed)

**Yara Greyjoy **Master of ships on the small council of the south kingdom, commander of the royal navy, Queen of the Iron Islands

_**Cursive/Bold text is in Dothraki**_

"I remember you saying that the Qunari do not make alliances." Daenerys said to the Kirwall ambassador. It was the morning after the battle to get over the Trident and she had called her advisors together in her command tent to establish a better understanding of the current situation and plan their next move.

"I still stand by what I said then." Derek replied. "I have a hard time believing Orlais and the Qunari are here as allies. At most the Qunari were aware of the Orlesian intentions and decided to make their own move at the same time. And even that is pure speculation without more to go on."

"Then why are they here? They never troubled us before. Why attack us?" She asked.

"If I had to guess? I'd say you probably aren't the real enemy for the Qunari in this. I'd say their motivation for invading here is related to their war with Tevinter."

"Seriously? It's remarkable how often these topics turn right back to them." Daenrys said with an irritated shake of her head. "Please, continue."

"As you probably know the Qunari and the Imperium have been at war with each other for the better part of three centuries. Most of that time they have fought each other to a standstill, although some say the Qunari are merely saving their strength for a more serious push against Thedas at a later time. But since establishing their forces in Essos the Imperium has been funneling money, supplies and slave labor to bolster their economy, and so their war effort against the Qunari. The Qunari could not allow the advantage to tilt in the favor of the Imperium, so they opened another war front in the narrow sea. But according to all reports while the Qunari are holding their ground, they have been unable to make significant progress against their enemy. Unfortunately for them the Imperium made it to Essos first, giving them a solid entrenched positions in the mainland, with allies among the locals to support them, while the Qunari have only a number of small bases in the stepstones to launch their attacks from. Should the Qunari wish to properly challenge the Imperium in this part of the world they will need a stronger foothold. Since they haven't had any luck in taking that foothold from mainland Essos…"

"…They'll try and take it from here." She finished.

"Precisely. Take over your lands, convert your people to the Qun and they have restored the power balance and will be in a much better position to take on their arch nemesis."

"So we are just the means to an end to them?" Daenerys asked.

"Not inaccurate. They want the Imperium dealt with and don't trust anyone else to do it, and don't much care who gets in their way in the process." The ambassador said.

"The Qunari are that powerful? To take on the Twin Kingdoms, potentially the Orlesians, and then have the power left to take on the Tevinter Imperium?" She said in disbelief.

"They once fought every nation in Thedas to a standstill. Who's to say what their true capabilities are?" Derek said with a shrug. "What is clear is that they are willing to take that chance."

"So it would seem. Fortunately it seems they are remaining on Bear Island for the time being, which does give us time to deal with Orlais." She said.

"Yes my Queen. And on that front there have been more news." Grey Worm said. "I appears that the Twins have been destroyed."

"What? What happened?" Daenerys asked, shocked.

"We are not entirely certain. The reports from the survivors are rather strange. They seem to defy reason. They speak of a red or pink light…" Grey Worm said.

"Wait." Derek interrupted. "Red and pink light? One that pulled the stones to the sky before scattering them in all directions?"

"Yes. The event left little behind except the keeps on either riverbank. Those on our side of the river sent word of what had happened. What became of those on the far side of the river we do not know. But the Orlesian force appeared here soon after, so they may have simply ignored the keep as a target. If so our people will still likely be there. In that case we might be able to retrieve them." Grey Worm said.

"Ambassador, do you know what this was? What the Orlesians used to attack us?" Daenerys asked.

"Not with certainty, but the description sounds awfully similar to something I witnessed in Kirkwall many years ago. There something similar was done by the mad mage Anders to destroy Kirkwall's Chantry, kill Grand Cleric Elthina and effectively start the Mage-Templar war. We never discovered what methods he used, but if the same thing happened at the Twins, then it seems the Orlesians managed what we could not." Derek replied.

"If this is something the Orlesians could learn to use, would it be possible for them to do it more than once?" She asked.

"Let's hope not. Otherwise no fortress in Westeros is safe." He said.

"That kind of weaponry… one wonders what other tricks the Imperials have up their sleeves." She said.

"This is going to cause some complications." Daenerys said. "This means that we will have no choice but to engage the Orlesians head on. There will be no easy way to getting around them. On the other hand, neither can they. It seems to me that our next move will be quite straightforward. We will move forward and engage the Orlesian army with everything we have."

"What is their exact position now?" She asked.

"That… is where things get complicated." Gendry said. "Khal Haggo has had his riders scouting before dawn. Those that have returned tell us that they've had skirmishes with minor elements of the Orlesian army, as well as troops from House Kronos. Some scouts are still out there, but so far they have had no confirmed sightings of the Grand Army."

"The troops they sent mean they know we are here. But their lack of troops nearby means their main force isn't moving against us yet. What are they up to?" Daenerys pondered. "An army of that size doesn't just vanish. I need them found, so we don't run into them by accident. I'll join the effort with Drogon as soon as we are done here." She then stated.

"Do we have any Orlesian prisoners on hand?" She asked.

"Very few survived yesterday's battle with us. Most were killed in the heat of the fighting, but there are some." Grey Worm said.

"Good. Question them. Some of them must know what the Orlesian plan is." She said.

"Of course. And afterwards?" Grey Worm asked.

"You told me earlier that the Orlesians have been letting our people go in exchange for an oath to take no further part in the war?" She asked.

Grey Worm nodded. "Since crossing the river there a number of people claiming to have been part of our training force have come to us. Some of these are stragglers that escaped the destruction of their army, but others indeed claim to have been captured by the enemy. Among them the story seems to always be the same. The Orlesians took their weapons and armor, extracted this oath from them, then released them with a warning that any who return to fight them will be executed. Any who refused to swear the oath were also killed. This was what was done with those of common birth. The highborn are apparently being held for ransom."

"Still, they allowed them to live if they agreed to certain conditions. I don't think we can afford to be less merciful than the Orlesians. We will keep the prisoners with us for the time being. Figure out if any of the Orlesian captives are highborn. Perhaps at the end of this war we can arrange for prisoner exchanges rather than paying ransom." She concluded.

"I suppose that swearing that oath removes any chance of the survivors from our training force rejoining our army." She said.

"For those that were released by the Orlesians at least. Those who managed to avoid capture and made it to us have already been put into our existing companies though." Gendry commented.

"That's good to hear. We need every man." Daenery said.

"We should have no use for cowards who run." Haggo said with disdain.

"We need every man." She repeated. "And I remember the Dothraki fleeing when the dead overran them. Does that mean I should dismiss House Stallion from my service on those grounds?" She asked pointedly.

Haggo looked sour at that, and said nothing. Daenerys felt an almost immediate pang of regret at her words. She had come across as too harsh. The Dothraki were not at fault for fleeing during the battle of Nightfall. No, the blame for that belonged solely to her and Jon. It had been one of their worst mistakes in that battle, perhaps the worst mistake they had ever made. A cavalry charge was a typical way for the Westerosi to start a battle, and the Dothraki had a reputation of being absolutely devastating during a charge, something she had seen with her own eyes. They had truly thought they would have been more effective there than they had proven to be. What they had not understood at the time was that the power of the dothraki was as much about terror as their prowess in combat. Against an enemy that did not fear them they had been at a disadvantage and that had cost them.

"My point being is that just about every person in the world runs if the conditions are bad enough. Then only exception to that I know of are the Unsullied, who have been trained in a way that they truly fear nothing. What matters is that they are ready to fight for me now. They may have run away before, but they came back. Anyone who does that I will welcome with open arms, because that is what we will need to win this war. As I said, we need every man." She said, trying to keep her tone conciliatory.

"Well, on the area of troops we have some good news and bad news." Gendry said. "The Dornish troops managed to catch up with us last night, accompanied by troops from the Upstart House Silverpine, jointly adding some nine thousand men to our forces. The bad news is that they report some losses on the road. Hit and run attacks from House Sea."

"Yet more lives lost to traitors." Daenerys said, shaking her head. "Has there been any word from Jaime Lannister about his efforts in dealing with this House?" She asked.

"Not yet my Queen. It's only a matter of time though. By now the battle should have happened, or will shortly." Grey Worm answered. "The attacks on the Dornish happened before we had even sent out our warnings about house Sea, so it should not be taken as an indication of anything."

"I'm not. I'm simply eager to have this thorn removed from our side. House Sea is the last Upstart House south of us, the last major enemy in that direction. Once they are defeated the only enemy left in the South Kingdom are the Orlesian assassins holding the castles and holdfasts they managed to take, and small groups of leftovers. Nothing we won't be able to handle. The sooner this is done the sooner we can focus on taking on the Grand Army itself." She said.

"We will be moving against the Orlesian army as soon as we have a notion of where they have gone. If they are victorious Jaime Lannister's force will remain in the south and secure the territories behind us. I also want him to go to Riverrun. We have not heard anything form that castle since this war started. It may have fallen to enemy hands. I want him to go there and verify the situation and take the castle back if necessary. If we need his troops against the Orlesians we will send word." She commanded.

"We will find the enemy Khaleesi." Haggo declared. "And then we will face them in glorious combat. We will slaughter their men and take the women that fight in their army for ourselves."

"You will not take the women. I forbid it." Daenerys said sternly.

Haggo frowned. "_**But khaleesi, these are your enemies. Why be concerned what happens to their womenfolk?" **_He said, switching to Dothraki.

"_**They are my enemy. And that is why I would have you kill them. But there are lines I will not cross, even when it comes to my enemies. The women of the enemy will not be touched, and that is my final word on the matter. If I catch anyone disobeying my command I will punish them for it." **_She answered in the same language.

"_**We are the blood of your blood. If this is your command then I will see to it that they obey. But these riders have shed blood for you, and will again." **_He said._** "They deserve prizes for their efforts. They are owed prizes." **_He then added.

"_**And prizes they will have. Horses, meat, mead, ale and wine. Gold and steel. All these things and more. I don't mind if they loot the fallen. But the women are not part of those rewards. If you want women there are plenty here who will be more than willing if they are compensated. Some were killed when the camp was hit, but many more remain. Pay them, and they will attend to whatever needs the bloodriders happen to have." **_She said.

"Very well, Khaleesi." Haggo said in the common tongue.

"Good. Then we can move on." She said. "Does the Orlesian fleet remain in the Bite?" She asked.

"None of the ships we have assigned to watch their movements have reported them leaving. Ships constantly move to and fro from the area, and recently they have reported a lot of activity within the Bite, but the bulk of their fleet remains where it is." Grey Worm said.

"If that changes I want to be informed at once. That there have been so few sightings of the Grand Army yet makes me think that the enemy might be planning to relocate themselves. If so we will need to be ready to move quickly to intercept them." She said.

"Back in King's Landing I sent a message to Yara Greyjoy. I directed her to focus her attention on the Orlesians as soon as her ships are fully prepared and leave the Qunari forces be for the time being. If she follows my commands she will bring her fleet around Westeros, picking up other allied fleets on the way, then engage the Orlesian naval forces and defeat them." She said then.

From King's Landing I also received this, sent for me by Yara." She said then, placing a stack of papers on the table. "Apparently a pirate captain that had a falling out with her crew gave Yara that, in exchange for her life and freedom."

Derek took the papers into his hand, examining them.

"Those papers describe a letter of marque, apparently sent to every pirate crew in Westerosi waters. In exchange for attacking ships of the Twin Kingdoms and bringing proof of having done so the Orlesians offer the pirate crews pardons for crimes they have committed before or during the war. To the captains and other high ranking crew they offer even more, promising to commission them as officers in the Orlesian navy at the end of the war. Furthermore, in exchange for half the goods seized during such raids the Empire offers to buy the rest for a good price, allowing the use of their ports for those transactions." Daenerys detailed to the others.

"That sounds like a very clever deal for the Emperor to do." Derek commented, still examining the papers. "With this move he gets a large number of pirates working for him, getting the shipping of the Twin Kingoms raided and supplies from that shipping put towards his war effort. And after the war he will have made a significant dent in the local pirate population, since a lot of the folk he pardoned will want to go on to live their lives with the riches they won from the campaign, and he will have expanded his pool of available officers for his navy. All very useful things to have in a post war environment. He's thinking ahead this one."

"Judging by everything I have seen he's been thinking ahead since long before this invasion started. He and that pet spymaster of his, Marquis Briala. I don't see any reason why they would change their ways now." Daenerys said dryly.

"There's a list here of the various groups the pirates are allowed to target as part of this deal. I note that the Upstart Houses that are in rebellion against are absent from that list." The ambassador said.

"Indeed. Which tells me something else. The Orlesians knew in advance that the rebelling houses were going to side with them. Which means the rebelling houses knew well beforehand that this invasion was going to happen. It confirms what I suspected from the first. I know for certain now that any claims there might be that this treason was done quickly, in the heat of the moment or as a hasty, bad judgement to be false. This was planned, carefully thought about and coordinated with our enemy. As cold blooded a betrayal as it could be." She said.

"But how was this done? Not all the New Houses betrayed you, and we knew nothing of the plans of the metalfaces. If we knew we would have warned you." Haggo said.

"You would have, My Lord. And for that loyalty I am thankful." She said. "But… I hate to speak ill of my allies, but some of them may have simply weighed their options and decided to let this war happen, to then win favors by supporting me. Perhaps they thought it best to side with someone of known quantity rather than a foreign Emperor they don't know for sure they can trust." She said.

"On the other hand maybe they were left in the dark after all. Just about every one of the New Houses has had dealings with the Empire in the past, just like many among the nobility. That would provide the Orlesians good opportunities to get close to the New Houses and figure out which among them would turn on the rest of us and which would not." She added.

"And only once they knew did they contact them about the plan they had in the works." The ambassador finished for her.

"Yes." She said quietly.

"All these clever tricks… all these plans and secret deals the Empire has made… they must all come to nothing in the end. Orlais must not win this war. That just cannot be the way this story ends for us. Yesterday was a good start in our efforts. We showed them that even without a dragon to aid us we are a formidable force that is worth taking seriously. Now we must build on that victory and take down the masters of these traitors. In yesterday's battle we defeated some of them. That was also a good beginning. In the days to come we must simply do the same on a larger sale." She said then, directing her words to the entire tent.

* * *

Isabela walked through the halls of Pyke, occasionally eyeing her surroundings with some distaste. She had been to many places in life and she had gotten used to most of them. But this was not a place she cared much for in terms of comfort. The way everything somehow seemed persistently soaked, the damp coldness that lingered everywhere. On sea such matters didn't really matter to her. There those things were just a part of the experience. But on dry land she wanted different things, for a change of pace. Give her a filthy tavern like the Hanged Man over this place any day! Unfortunately the locals weren't very invested in trade. They didn't seem to like to buy things, so an establishment like a tavern was not really a thing they did.

When it came to the people that lived here Isabela had yet to form a final conclusion. Like people everywhere they seemed more varied than at first glance. Some were okay, some were plain nuts. The majority of them were just fucking grim! Good sailors though.

"At least Yara is nice to be around." She thought. Never would she have thought she would think that way of the woman that had been hunting her down for two years. But she had had time to get to know her new captain with the time spent on her ship, then more time spent here on the Iron Islands getting the damaged _Seadancer _repaired and Yara's armada prepared for war. The two of them were more alike than she had first thought: Self-confident women with free souls that loved the sea. Yara was the more political of the two, but what else could be expected from the Queen of the Iron Islands, not to mention the daughter of a man with aspirations of being King of the same? And Yara wasn't bad looking either…

Finally Isabela arrived at her destination, knocking at the door before entering when she heard the call to come in. Inside she found Yara sitting on a chair, her feet on the table, reading a letter. Yara did not respond to Isabela entering the room, instead keeping her eyes on the letter. Isabela leaned on the doorframe, looking at the other woman, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Eventually the Queen of the Iron islands heeded her presence, peering at her over the letter she had been reading.

"Is there something you wanted to tell me, or did you come here just to watch?" Yara asked.

Isabela chuckled. "Sorry." She said. You know… I could do other things besides watching if you like? I have been known to do that." She added after a pause.

"Have you now?" Yara said, keeping her voice level, raising an eyebrow.

"Mm-hmm." Isabela hummed affirmatively, smiling. Then her expression turned serious again. "But seriously speaking yes, I did have something I came to tell you. Just got word from your boys. Your ship has been all fixed up and your fleet is officially ready to set sail. Now we are just waiting on you to tell us which way to go. Do we go south… or north?"

"What's in there? Bad news?" She asked as she noted the frown on Yara's face, how her eyes had drifted back to the letter.

"You could say that." Yara said, slamming the letter on the table. She then stood up and walked to stand in front of a nearby fireplace. "It's from the Dragon Queen. She uses a lot of fancy words, but the general message is this: She thanks us for the information sent about the deal the Orlesians have made with local pirates and about the Qunari attack, although about the latter she seems to know more than we did. By her words we weren't the only ones to be attacked. The Qunari have apparently also hit Bear Island, cutting off all contact."

"Could explain a few things. We were near Bear Island when the attack happened weren't we? The reason we were attacked might have been simply because we got in their way." Isabela commented.

"Could be." Yara said with a shrug. "But that's hardly the issue here. In the letter the Dragon Queen acknowledges the danger posed by the Qunari, but tells me to ignore that problem for now and focus on dealing with the Orlesians, on the grounds that they are the more immediate problem for the Twin Kingdoms in general."

"Oh, well, that's…" Isabela stammered, at a loss for words.

"Damn her!" Yara cursed. "She'd have me leave my own homeland defenseless to chase after her enemies instead. The Orlesians may be the closer threat to the Twin Kingdoms, but the Qunari are certainly the closer enemy to me. She knows that. But she's commanding me to do this anyway. Damn her for asking for this!"

"Will we do it?" Isabela asked.

"What?" Yara asked, turning to look at her.

"Will we do what she commanded you to do, or are we doing something else? What do you want to do?" Isabela asked again.

"I… I'm not sure…" Yara said, hesitant. A moment of silence followed as she tried to come to a decision. "What do you think I should do?" She finally asked.

"It's not my call to make." Isabela said at once.

"I'd like to hear you opinion anyway. What do you think I should do?" Yara insisted.

Isabela sighed, looked at the ground, then crossed her arms and walked to look out of a window nearby.

"You have a strong fleet, and good sailors to handle it. But there's no way you can take on the Qunari all by yourself. The only way you'll even have a chance against them is if you've the rest of the Westerosi backing you up. And they can't help you as long as they're busy with the Orlesians."

"So you think I should do what the Queen says?" Yara said.

"I think she has the right of this. She needs us to help her out, and we need her. But again is this isn't my call to make. It's yours. And I think you need to make a decision soon. Your people are ready to go, and waiting around is not going to help matters, whatever you decide." Isabela said.

"I see. Thanks for offering your point of view." Yara said. "You kept saying we. Does that mean you're coming with us?" She asked next.

"Of course I am. What else would I do?" Isabela replied.

"You're not a slave you know. You do get to choose. That's the deal we made. You kept your end of the bargain, now you can claim your part any time you like." Yara said.

"I can, but I think I already explained my situation. I want my ship back, and I want to make Harwyn pay for taking it away from me. Honestly speaking it's one more reason I want you to chase after the Orlesians. He will be with them, or he will be somewhere along the way. So to break this down my choices are to come with you and maybe get my life back. Or I can stay here. Not a good prospect. Not trying to offend you, but there's nothing here but rocks, water…" Isabela said.

"… birdshit and a lot of very unattractive people. That's what everyone knows about the Iron Islands. We more than anyone else. That's why we have developed a habit of sailing elsewhere and taking the nice things we can't get at home from other people. You saying it as it is doesn't offend me." Yara finished for her.

"That's good to hear." Isabela quipped before continuing. "If I stay here I'll be stranded. Not just for a few years but for good this time. Your people don't like to buy or sell, so I my chances of buying a new ship and crew are basically nil even if I had some coin on me. I couldn't even build myself a ship since your dear murderous uncle had most of the trees hereabouts cut down building his armada, and those few that remain are all owned and jealously guarded by someone."

"If that's what you're worried about I could just drop you to some other port along the way. It would be no trouble." Yara offered.

Isabela shook her head. "I appreciate the offer, but it won't change much in the long run. Even then it would take far too long to get me back on my feet. And I don't just want *a* ship. I want *my* ship. Honestly I think my best option is to come with you. In fact I'd prefer it if I really get to choose. I wanted to have the option to walk away, but it doesn't necessarily mean I'll pick it at the first opportunity. It's alright really. I like the company. I don't mind doing this."

"Well alright then." Yara said. "I just wanted to make sure you remembered you have a choice in this. Though I suppose sometimes a person may have all the choices in the world and yet be left with only the one."

"I'll get back to you with an answer about where to go soon. Soon as in within the day. I'll need to think about this." She added.

"I'll get the word out." Isabela said with a nod. She was about to leave, but at the door she stopped, turning back to Yara. "Oh, ah, about that whole, uh, *doing more than just looking* thing, if I was being too forward…"

"I'd have told you if you had been." Yara cut in. "Trust me, I'm a woman who speaks her mind. Don't worry about it. I'm not promising to take you up on your offer, but, ah, consider it noted." She said with a wink.

The pirate gave a final smile and departed.

"Maybe I like the company too…" Yara said after she was sure the other woman was really gone. The she turned her attention back to the fire, her expression turning serious once again.

"Damn you, Daenerys. Damn you…"She said, staring into the flames, grasping her chin deep in thought, trying to come to a conclusion about what to do. Go north and defend her home from the Qunari threat, or do as she had been bid, and start moving her forces southwards to bring the battle to the Orlesian navy.

Many more hours would pass before she finally came to a decision.


	28. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27; Into the smoking lands;**

**Characters of the chapter **

**Tiraen Tasvius **Venatori Agent, Magister of the Tevinter Imperium, ambassador to Meereen, commander of the 5th expeditionary legion of Tevinter, formerly apprentice to Magister Cato Argos.

**Flavius **Commander in the 5th expeditionary legion of Tevinter.

Tiraen woke in her cabin. Looking out of the cabin window she noted that it was still dark outside. Nonetheless she got dressed and went to the upper deck. After greeting the captain she went to the bow of the ship, looking into the darkness. She ate a simple breakfast of water, bread and dried fruit there as well, never once removing her eyes from the horizon. Finally the darkness paled away as dawn arrived, and in that light she could finally see their destination, the Valyrian coast, a thin strip of coast in the distance, shrouded in what looked like a thick mist. If she looked closely, she could just make out the outlines of large buildings. She was still standing there looking at it when her commander, a man named Flavius appeared at her side, one of the dozen she had picked to go with her on this mission.

"My Lady, are you alright? You've been here for hours." The he said to her.

"I'm fine. I just wanted to be here. This is a sight I might never again lay my eyes on, so I should make the best of it." She replied, still not moving her eyes from the horizon.

Flavius nodded and turned his own eyes to look at the approaching coast. "All that fog… makes for quite the ominous sight does it not?"

"I suppose. But it is rather appropriate is it not? The sight before us is the echoes of a cataclysm that doomed an entire civilization. A sight like that should be ominous." She said.

"There are sailors that say the Doom you speak of still rules these lands. They say that any who lay eyes on Valyria will be forever cursed." He said, slight worry in his voice.

"Sailors say a great many things. Most of them are false." She said dismissively. "For instance I once spoke to a Meerenese sailor who insisted he had seen a Kraken the size of a mountain that could destroy whole fleets all on its own. Yet even the largest specimen noted in any books did not exceed thirty meters. Not to mock an important profession but I think the reason they tell such tales is because life at sea is dull, and what would offer more amusement than fooling clueless landlubbers?"

"I take that to mean that you don't put much stock is such stories, my Lady?" He said.

"I have no fear of them if that is what you ask. I am a mage. As one such I know how real curses would work. Beyond that I have no interest or patience in superstitions. I do **respect** the power that can do what was done here, and so I know to be cautious with it. But I have no fear. I intend to take that power for myself and make it serve me, because I know that I can use it for good, for the Imperium." She said.

"Perhaps you're right. Perhaps they are just stories. And yet… no one who has come here has ever returned." The commander contemplated.

"I never said there was no danger." She said. "The Veil in the peninsula has been destroyed. That alone creates plentiful hazards for us, not the least of which will be legions of wild spirits. I think there are enough real threats for us to deal with without us throwing fictional curses into the mix."

"But we have come prepared, and on that note I'd like you to assemble our team on the deck now. It's time to give them their final briefing before we make landfall." She then told the commander.

When her team was assembled she took a good look of all of them. All of them were armed with bows as well as swords and shields, the better to respond to changing circumstances they were certain to face on their journey. Each of them were good men she knew, ones she could trust her life to, members of the Venatori just like she was. People loyal to the Imperium, loyal to the Elder One, loyal to her. Every one of them had been handpicked by her for this, chosen for their skill and loyalty, the very finest her legion had to offer.

"The amulets I've given you. Show them to me." She told them, producing into her hand a bronze disk with runes carved into its surface and a smooth green stone at the center, dangling from a chain. One by one her soldiers showed her similar disks.

"Put them on." She ordered, slipping her own amulet over her head. She suppressed a wince as she felt the presence of the fade recede and vanish in her mind. She disliked being cut off from her magic this way. She sensed it as a void in her chest, so intense it made her nauseous. And it wasn't just the physical discomfort that bothered her. Her magic had always been a source of great pride to her, the completion to her being. It was the marker that entitled her to all she had and all she might yet hold. Not having it left her… reduced, handicapped, like a critical part of her was missing, leaving her a lesser creature.

Pushing her uncomfortable sensations aside, she turned her attention back to her team. "Now, listen well and understand. These amulets keep you safe. You may not sense it, but they pull the Veil around you, hiding you from the sight of any spirit. If you were to remove them even briefly while in Valyria any spirits in proximity will sense you and will attack you. If that does happen then most likely you will die, or be made into an abomination. Because of that from this point forward these amulets must be worn at all times, by all of us, even me. I cannot stress this point enough. You are to wear these when you sleep, when you fight, when you eat, when you're cleaning yourselves, when you're taking a shit… at all times." She told them with a grave voice.

"Do you understand?" She asked, to which her men responded with a chorus of acknowledgement. Yet she decided that she was not fully satisfied with how they had delivered their assurances.

"I want each of you to look me in the eye and say the words. Say that you will wear the amulets no matter what. Say it so that I believe it." She ordered.

Flavius spoke up first. "I promise it. The amulet I wear shall stay on at all times." Each of her men gave similar assurances in turn. When they were done she nodded, pleased.

"Good. Now, we will be arriving shortly. Once the ship drops anchor we will use boats to bring us ashore. Our ship will remain as close as they dare and wait for our return." She said.

"How long will they wait on us?" One of her soldiers asked.

"The provisions they carry will allow them to hold a position for around a month. If they run out they are to gather fresh supplies and return here at the first opportunity. By my orders they are to continue to do that until we return or until a full year has passed without word from us." She said.

"Now then, once we make landfall we must be careful in the extreme. The Veil has been destroyed here. As a result the Fade and the waking world are one within the peninsula. The rules of the two dimensions will have mixed, and I cannot accurately predict how those two systems will interact." She continued.

"So what does that mean in practice? Flying sharks?" One soldier asked, dead serious.

Tiraen laughed. "Not necessarily. But in the Fade thoughts can take on a life of their own. So if it works the same way here seeing as you just voiced the concept, who knows.

"It might be best to guard your thoughts here." She said then in a serious tone.

"Any idea what kind of threats we face in there?" Flavius asked.

"Spirits for certain, but the amulets should keep us safe from those. And as for other things? I think possessed creatures are extremely likely. There is also the possibility of running into stone men, since various local nations have a tendency to dump them there. If there are other threats… I guess we will find out when we face them." She said.

"Stone men? You mean people infected with grayscale? I don't know about this. I've seen what that disease does to people, and I don't want to catch that." One soldier piped up, afraid, while a number of others looked worried as well.

"I know that is a cause for concern. We will avoid contact with the infected, naturally. And if they do attack you are to use your bows to fight them at range. That should limit the risk. Beyond that we will take every precaution that none among us catch the disease. And should you contract it… then I promise that I will personally do everything in my power to see you cured. You have my word on that. I do not forsake my own." She said.

Her soldiers nodded, but many still looked uncertain.

"There is danger and difficulties on this mission, that is beyond question. But I called you here because I know in my heart that you will face those challenges and triumph over them. You are the finest soldiers the Imperium has to offer, the best I could hope for. With you by my side I know with absolute certainty that we will overcome any obstacle." She said, her praise making many of her men puff their chests with pride.

"And by your side I will be, for I will share every danger and hardship with you. I may not be able to use my magic on this mission, but nevertheless I will fight with alongside you with every means at my disposal. I will die for you if need be."

They nodded their approval, her own resolve bolstering their confidence. If she was willing to take the risk, could they do any less?

"I will do this, because I know what we fight for. We are the Venatori, the Hunters, and the foes of the Elder One are our prey! We will accomplish our mission for the good of the Imperium and the Glory of the God of Empires. For our people." She finished.

"Then for the Imperium we are with you my Lady. To the end." Flavius said. "Get the boats on water and move out men! Let's make history!" He ordered.

Sometime later she was sitting on one of two boats being rowed ashore, the bank of mist drawing ever closer, the buildings at the shoreline clearly visible. It was at the moment they entered that fog she could smell it.

"Oh. It's not fog at all…" Flavius said next to her.

"It's smoke." She finished for him, the both of them in awe. The all-encompassing pervasiveness of the smoke told her that it had likely been created as a result of the Doom. She could think of no other likely cause, especially since there were no fires anywhere to be seen. For smoke to still be around so long after the responsible event… what had happened here? What kind of power could cause a thing like this?

They had travelled perhaps a hundred meters into the mist of smoke when Tiraen suddenly gave a gasp of delight.

"My Lady? Are you all right?" Flavius asked, confused.

"I can feel it. The Fade. More clearly than I ever have." She said, her eyes closed, a wide smile on her lips. "It's a feeling almost beyond description, commander. Imagine that you had been deaf all your life, and suddenly you can hear the most beautiful song in the world. It feels so good. It feels… like I'm home. Like I'm where I'm meant to be."

Then her smile died a fraction, and she frowned. She felt the fade more strongly than she ever had, and yet somehow she knew that sensation could be yet stronger, purer. There was still something hampering her sense of the fade, preventing her from experiencing the full glory of it. Of course! The amulet. It drew the Veil with it, draping it around her, dampening her link with the Fade. Perhaps if she removed it…

Her hand closed around the amulet. She was about to pull it off when Flavius grabbed her wrist, stopping her.

"No, My Lady, stop! You said that none of us were to remove the amulets here, and you are more at risk than any of us here." He said firmly.

Briefly she stared at him, her face twisted in anger, indignant that he had dared to interrupt her. Then her expression slowly calmed as the rationality of his words won over.

"Yes. Yes. Thank you commander. It seems I must be extra careful here. Temptation will prey on me, and I must guard myself against it." She said, releasing her hold on the amulet.

Not long after that particular episode they made landfall, leaving their footprints on the volcanic soil. "One wonders how long it has been since someone has done this last? A hundred years? Two hundred? More?" She thought.

"So… here we are. What now?" Flavius asked, staring into the jungle that grew just off the shore as the rest of the soldiers were busy taking supplies off the boats. "Are we to just wander here aimlessly? We don't even know what we are looking for."

"We do." Tiraen replied, staring into the distance, her voice suddenly having acquired a distant note.

"What?" Flavius said, frowning.

"There is… something here. Now that we have our feet on the ground I can feel it. Powerful, immensely powerful. To my senses it appears like a second sun, shining with indescribable brightness. I suppose you can't sense it like I do." She explained.

"No. Though this place feels… very strange." Flavius said, looking around himself like he was expecting something scary to jump at him any second. "This power… can you feel where it comes from?" He asked.

"Yes." She said, her eyes closed, her face one of intense concentration. "If I focus I can just see… a mountain… its flank ripped open. And… there's a door that leads inside. The source of power resides deep within. I can't see what the source is though, it's too bright to look upon. I'll have to see it with my physical eyes to determine its nature. But that is what we seek, I'm sure of it. And I know which way we must go."

She turned to the rest of her team, seeing that they were now ready. They pulled their boats just inside the jungle, using ropes to secure them to trees.

"Follow." She said to them when they were done. With that they left the beach and disappeared into the jungle. Only after a few hours of walking one of their predictions came true as they were set upon by Stone Men. Those of the afflicted that still had some semblance of their minds kept their distance, but the rest were filled with a bestial rage that made them attack mindlessly. Fortunately despite their name their skins proved no harder than usual and gave way to arrows easily enough. Her soldiers dropped the creatures with pinpoint fire and after some two dozen casualties the Stone Men lost interest in fighting and retreated. Not one of the infected had managed to reach their position. Her soldiers had wanted to retrieve the arrows they had fired, but she had forbidden them from doing so. For all that she knew the arrows might carry the disease now, and even if that were not the case removing them might involve touching the Stone Men, which was obviously out of the question. She had promised her people that precautions would be taken against this infection, and she had meant it. They simply had to hope that the arrows they had left would be sufficient for their journey, or that they would stumble upon a Valyrian weapons cache that would allow them to replenish their supplies.

After the Stone Men, no further enemies assailed them that day.

After a few more hours of walking from their battle site, the vegetation began to die out. Half hour later it had disappeared altogether. They found themselves trudging through an ash ridden wasteland, passing by forests of leafless trees with grey trunks, taking breaks amongst stone ruins so massive they made every one of them feel very small indeed, including her. The shroud of smoke hanged in the air everywhere, stinging their eyes and filling their nostrils with its smell. The smoke covered the face of the sun, leaving this grey, lifeless world in a permanent dusk. The world around them was eerily silent, making every noise they made unnaturally loud in their ears.

Now and then they came across telltale signs that the veil had been disrupted: Glowing green crystals, rocks floating in the air, furniture and even skeletons somehow fused into the walls. And of course she could sense the absence of the Veil, the presence of the Fade one of her only sources of joy in this forsaken place. The desire to experience it fully without interference continued to nag at edges of her thoughts, but she kept the impulse at bay. From time to time they spotted what Tiraen thought to be spirits, but they gave them a wide berth, so she could not be certain. She was still confident that the amulets could protect them from detection, but she thought it best not to tempt fate. Even if they were not attacked by the spirits, their presence was a stark reminder that the danger here was very real.

"Such desolation… is this the consequence of the Doom? Is this the result of the things that happened on that dreadful day?" She wondered.

"It's a good thing we brought food of our own." She thought, glancing back where their supplies were being pulled on sledges. "Its unlikely that there is much here that can sustain us, and with the veil disrupted anything local won't be safe for us to eat."

The one good thing about the missing vegetation was that there was very little blocking their sight. As such the mountain that was their objective was clearly visible, dominating the view in the distance. Even this far away it had become obvious that their target was not merely a mountain, but a volcano, one of the fourteen fires that lay at the heart of Valyria, shattered by something of enormous power. In some ways this did make some sense to her, for the various tales told of the Valyrians always credited their discovery of dragons and their magical talents to the fourteen flames. If there was truth to these tales then it seemed entirely plausible that the Valyrian mages had had something to do with the downfall of their people. Even so many questions still remained. What had these ancient mages done to cause the devastation that they now witnessed, and why? What was this power that she sensed, the legacy that lingered in the wake of the Doom? And most importantly: Could this power be tamed and made to serve her and her cause?

They were passing through a ruin that was little more than a few crumbling low walls, with a large number of skeletons strewn about the floor. Then a most unexpected thing happened. The world briefly turned blinding white, and when their vision returned the ruin had changed, everything assuming a blurry, unearthly appearance. The room where they stood was whole once more, the missing blocks of stone replaced by ethereal counterparts, the large wooden door at the end of the hall similarly restored. In the air a deep rumble in the distance could be heard, and through the windows the landscape could be seen, wreathed in baleful green fire. The doors swung open and a throng of ghostly figures ran inside, scaring every Tevinter in the room with their sudden appearance.

Tiraen was the first to regain her composure. From the corner of her eye she saw that one of her soldiers had drawn his bow, taking aim at the ghostly figures.

"Stand down soldier, they cannot harm us." She told him, pushing his bow arm down as she did.

The soldier obeyed, although his composure remained uneasy. "What… what are they?" He asked, his voice hoarse.

"Memories. Echoes of what happened here." She said, her voice one of awe.

"Move it! Keep moving! Take shelter here! Soldiers, keep the civilians safe! Shouted one ghost clad in armor, motioning at other ghosts as they continued to stream through the door. Some of the ghosts were armored, carrying spears, swords and heavy shields, clearly soldiers, but most were civilians in various clothing, consisting of both men and women of all ages. The bulk of the soldiers formed into a semi-circle around the door, spears pointed to attack anything that came through, while the rest attended to the civilians, aiding the wounded and elderly in getting through. The civilians meanwhile huddled on the floor with terrified faces. Once the last person had entered the door was closed and barred with a heavy wooden beam.

"Hold on, why can we understand them? How come they're speaking Tevene? Why not their own language?" Flavius asked.

"The memories in this place have been here for centuries, unremembered by anyone living. They wish to be known, to touch a mind and live." Tiraen explained.

"They want? Are they alive?" Flavius asked, disturbed by the notion.

"Not exactly. But in the fade even things that are not truly alive can have agency. I can't explain it any better than that." She said, then directed her attention back to the ghostly figures.

"Mommy, what's going on? What's happening?" A young girl in the arms of her mother asked, confused and frightened.

"Mother doesn't know sweetheart. She truly doesn't. But we must stay here now. There are soldiers here, they will keep us safe. We have to trust them." The mother said, hushing her daughter, although she sounded less than confident in her own words.

With the door now closed and barred the soldiers began to relax somewhat, moving to converse with each other and the civilians in low tones. Tiraen saw one soldier approach the one she assumed was in charge, so she moved closer to overhear their words, walking past and through other ghosts.

"Captain, I believe the area is secure and the civilians are safe for now." the soldier said to his commander.

"What few there are. Three lost for every one we managed to save." The Valyrian Captain said, bowing his head.

"Dragons were falling from the sky. I saw." Another soldier said before resuming his duties.

"Dragons as well? Lord of Light have mercy!" The first soldier exclaimed. "Captain… what is this? What are we dealing with? What have the mages done?" He asked, giving voice to the question doubtless lingering on the minds of every soul in the room, past or present.

"How should I know? Do I look like a mage to you?" The Captain said. "All I know is what all of us saw. There was an immense explosion at the Mountain of Sorcerers, followed by fire and chaos, with monsters appearing everywhere, killing a whole lot of people, the rest of us fleeing here. That's all I've got. I'm as confused as anyone here."

The Captain leaned against the wall, looking absolutely exhausted. "This was supposed to be another boring day guarding our home town from pickpockets and muggers. Instead…" He sighed.

The first soldier looked sad and defeated for a moment. Then he puffed his chest, mustering what courage he had left. "Well, our duty to the Empire remains. We must…"

"There is no Empire. Not after today." The Captain interrupted. "The capital was far closer to the mountain, and will have been caught in the explosion. Nothing will remain of it. The capital was the heart of our realm. With it our leadership is gone, along with the dragons and our people's greatest works."

"I need all of you to listen to me very carefully." He said, eyeing his soldiers intently. "Our only duty now is to the people in this room, and whoever else might still be alive out there. We are refugees now, all of us. We have no way of knowing how far this destruction has spread. Until we know otherwise we must prepare ourselves for the possibility that we are the last of our people, perhaps even the last people in the world. In the face of this devastation even that seems a possibility. And so we must look out for each other and keep each other safe, soldier and civilian alike. We are all that we have, so we are all that matters now."

The other soldiers in the room began to nod their agreement until the one closest to the door suddenly tensed, retreating a few steps from the door, tightening his hold on his spear. "Captain. Ser. I think something is happening outside." He said.

Every soldier took weapons into their hands and moved to the door while everyone else retreated to the corners of the room. Tense moments of waiting followed. Tiraen began to hear running steps and shouts coming from the other side of the door.

"Those are people out there. There are more survivors it would seem! We should…" One Valyrian soldier began to say, delighted.

"Hold on…" The Captain said, having gone pale, struggling to keep his voice even. Outside the door the shouts had become terrified, gradually becoming screams of pain, accompanied by sounds of something sharp piercing flesh. Then became a long, bloodcurdling scream that belonged to nothing human. The sound of it made Valyrians and Tevinters in the room recoil with fear, overcome by an unreasonable sense of horror. A terror demon, Tiraen knew, recognizing the sound from past encounters.

"What? What?" One Valyrian soldier mumbled, shaking from head to toes, looking ready to wet himself and flee at the slightest provocation.

"Steady." The Captain said, placing a hand on the soldier's shoulder from behind. Despite his stern voice Tiraen noted how tense he looked.

Something heavy struck the door, making the Valyrian soldiers retreat a few steps . This was followed shortly by a second impact that created a long crack in the door. Long, glowing talons slowly slid through the crack and wrenched the door asunder, the wooden beam barring the way shattering like a twig. A large, gangly creature stepped through, straightening itself to its full height as it passed the doorway. It had greenish-grey skin, a long whiplike tail, many eyes akin to a spider's and a drooping maw far larger that creature of that size had any right to have. With a lazy motion it tossed a bloodied corpse at the feet of the Valyrian soldiers, then screamed at them again, the sound making the civilians in the room scramble for the windows in a desperate attempt to get away from the creature.

"Merciful fires! What is that thing!?" A Valyrian soldier exclaimed.

"Kill it!" Shouted another.

One soldier stepped forward and plunged his spear into the creature's flank. Upon being injured the terror demon went berserk, snapping the soldier's spear in half with a swipe of its arm before burying it's talons in his chest. The Valyrian captain moved to attack only for the demon to move in a blur and slice his throat open.

"Fuck this. Run! RUUN!" The frightened soldier from earlier shouted, trying to run past the demon only to be sliced apart like the others.

What followed was a scene of absolute carnage. The Valyrian soldiers tried to fight the demon but were swiftly overcome. As soon as the last soldier died the demon moved on without pause, falling upon the civilians, butchering them with merciless abandon. As each ghostly person was slain they fell where a skeleton lay on the floor, lingering there until fading away. Finally only the mother and her child from earlier remained, the demon looming dangerously over them. The mother hid her daughter behind her back and stared at the demon with courage only a mother protecting her child could muster:

"No! You will not have her! Take me if you must, but leave her be you monster! Do you hear me!?"

In response the demon grabbed her by her head and sent her spinning through the air, violently hitting the far wall before sliding to the ground.

"MOMMYYYY!" The daughter screamed, running to where the woman lay, unmoving. The child was still sobbing over her mother's body when the demon walked over. The creature raised a claw, screeching as it did. The vision faded before anything else had time to happen but the small skeleton laying atop a larger one told Tiraen all she needed to know.

"Holy sodding…" Flavius breathed, his eyes moving around the room and the skeletons within.

"A lingering ember of a dying people, snuffed out in this very room. A tragic sight if there ever was one. And now we know how their story ended." Tiraen said sounding genuinely affected.

"So this is what happened during the Doom. And yet… how was it accomplished? And why? What happened?" She contemplated as something on the ground caught her interest. She reached down and picked up a spear that lay on the ground, grasping it just where metal met wood. The wooden shaft was ancient and crumbled to dust at her touch, but the metal tip remained in her hand, as pristine as the day it was made.

"Ah. A good find." She said, deep in thought as she studied the light glinting off the metal.

"These weapons. Collect as many of them as you can. They're Valyrian steel. They will serve us well." She commanded her soldiers. They moved to gather as many spearheads and swords as they could, stuffing them into sacks, while a few of her soldiers put some of the swords immediately to use. After they were finished they left promptly, not wanting to remain with these corpses a moment longer than they needed to, eager to leave behind the visions they had witnessed. Tiraen on her part was pleased of their discovery of intact Valyrian weapons. It meant that her mission to Valyria had achieved at least some success. Whatever happened she would not be returning empty handed. Even so she had no intention of going home just yet. On the Mountain of Sorcerers the true prize beckoned to her, and there was noforce on this earth that would deter her from her intent to claim it.

The Tevinters moved on, leaving the ruined room in bodies of the dead were left where they lay, ready to tell their story to whomever would stumble on their resting place next.


	29. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28; The Lion does his part;**

**Characters of the Chapter **

**Brienne of Tarth **Knight of the Twin Kingdoms

**Bronn Blackwater, **Lord of Highgarden, Lord Paramount of the Reach

**Jaime Lannister, **Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West

**Podric Payne, **Knight of the Twin Kingdoms, formerly squire to Brienne of Tarth

"It seems the fighting is done My Lord. We have…" Podric Payne began to say.

"Yes Podric, so I see." Jaime Lannister answered, seated atop his horse. Podrick nodded and went on his way and Jaime returned to surveying the battlefield around him. He was surrounded by a field of corpses. A few were in the red and gold armor of Lannister forces, some others in the uniforms of the smaller houses of the Reach or the Westerlands. Most of the dead however had blue shields and banners with two wavy lines of white running horizontally through it, the sigil of the Upstart House Sea.

As soon as Daenerys Targaryen had sent warnings advising him that some of the Upstart Houses had betrayed the Twin Kingdoms, he had turned the Lannister army southwards to deal with the nearest threat, the Upstart House Sea. Originally there had been a plan for him to form a second army that would rally with the Queen's army as soon as the Orlesians made landfall. He had considered those plans to be promptly aborted when the Empire had turned its fleet towards the Bite, guessing the Queen would instead be calling all armies to her straightaway. The logistics of assembling the army in the Westerlands had taken a bit longer than expected, so he had just been about to leave the Westerlands when the invasion had begun. Still, he would have reached the Queen in time before any serious fighting took place had his brother's plans not gone completely out the window the moment the Orlesians hit solid ground. But such was the way of war, with plans rarely surviving beyond contact with the enemy.

The Westerlands had seen its share of the sneak attacks that had followed the Orlesian Landfall, but thankfully his army had already taken to the field by then, and enough of the Westerlands had remained intact to maintain the supply lines that sustained his forces.

Upon entering the Reach his force of some ten thousand had been joined by scattered groups of Reach houses. From them he had learned that the bulk of the Houses in the Reach had in the absence of other instructions moved to join their forces with the Queen's army, while these ones had had to turn back to deal with House Sea. House Sea for its part had been busy in the region, taking out any military force they were big enough to take on, even hammering the Dornish army with hit-and-run attacks as they had passed through this region. They had also been capturing or destroying supplies intended for the Queens army and other royalist forces, supplies that would surely be needed in the war effort. All the more validation for Jaime's decision to deal with the Upstart house before they did more harm. When Jaime had enquired to the fate of Bronn, the man who was supposed to lead the lords of the Reach, the lesser lords could not give him a concrete answer as to his fate. With all the fighting that had been going on in the region it was no surprise. Still, he wasn't too concerned. Jaime already knew Bronn to be crafty enough to survive just about anything life could throw at him, and if he had managed to survive this as well, then surely the old rogue would turn up sooner or later.

Jaime's scouts had found the forces of House Sea setting up an ambush for his troops just as Queen Daenerys had warned. His scouts had done their job well, uncovering the enemy's position without being discovered themselves. With the enemy unaware that they had been discovered, Jaime had gained an important tool to turn their trap to his advantage.

He had sent out a token force along the road so House Sea would think that his army was falling into their ambush just as planned. To improve this illusion the token force had been instructed to inflate their numbers as much as possible so the enemy would not become suspicious. His remaining forces he had divided into two groups, him taking command of one half, while Brienne led the second. Together they had approached the ambush site from the opposite sides, at a critical moment falling on house Sea, in effect ambushing the ambushers. With the advantage of their surprise lost to them and facing a superior force, House Sea had proven to be better tradesmen than soldiers. Within fifteen minutes of fighting the advantage had swung decisively in the favor of the royalists, and now, half an hour later from the fighting's start, here they were taking down enemy stragglers and dealing with the fight's aftermath. By his early estimation the enemy had lost six or seven soldiers for every one of theirs, an excellent result all things considered.

Today's victory was an important one, of that there was no doubt. With a single swift stroke his army had knocked one of the rebelling Upstart Houses out of his war. He had rid the Twin Kingdoms of an enemy force that had caused great harm behind their lines, hampering the Queen's efforts to deal with the Orlesian invader. Most of the military power of House Sea lay dead or dying on this field of battle. What enemy forces remained were shattered and leaderless. The lords of the Reach would have no difficulty dealing with the remnants now. And all this he had managed to do with very light casualties for his side.

His work was not quite finished of course. His army still had to take the home castle of House Sea. Doing so would complete the capture the territories held by House Sea, and so would remove one of the areas the Orlesian army had been using to sustain their army with Westerosi supplies. The removal of these areas would make the Orlesian forces more dependent of the supplies they were bringing in from Thedas, and so would make it easier for the Twin Kingdoms to win this war. But taking the castle was no obstacle. With the number of enemies defeated here Jaime did not expect significant resistance. That was something that would happen as soon as he got around to doing it.

Yes, today had been a significant victory. Yet for all that Jaime felt little joy or comfort in it. In reality he had not even wanted to be here, he had simply done it out of a sense of duty, because this invasion did need to be defeated. He did not question the necessity of being here, and he would never have let his reluctance get in the way of leading the men of his army, but he had had his fill of war many years ago.

After the death of Cersei he had been less than himself. Cersei had been a poisonous, monstrous woman that by rights he should never have cared for, but still in a strange way she had been part of him. Her passing had wounded him in ways he could not have anticipated. He hated himself for abandoning her those many years ago. And hated himself for hating himself, wanting to let go of the past and move on. It all resulted in quite a bit of brooding for him. He had lost interest in just about everything, retreating to Casterly Rock, where he had hoped to spend the remainder of his days with the only other woman he had ever fallen in love with. In many ways he had simply wanted to vanish from the face of the earth. The Lannisters were nearly universally shunned now, despised for their part in the wars before the formation of the Twin Kingdoms. Tyrion was the one exception to this rule, another piece of irony, since at one time he had been the black sheep of the family, people eager to blame him for whatever troubles arose, although admittedly the Lannisters had never been very popular.

In the end Tywin Lannister's dream of a thousand year legacy had come crashing down in bitter failure and defeat, crowned with infamy. Against that backdrop Jaime had felt that he was a relic of a bygone age that had no place in this new world. All that was left for him now was to find a little happiness for himself before it was time for him to pass from this world, letting himself fade from memory and letting this brave new world find its own way forward. Even so, at Briennes urging he had done enough to attend to his duties and govern his people properly, gaining him a reputation as a decent Lord, if a distant one. Honestly to many it seemed to be a positive trait rather than a flaw. The common folk were relieved, since the attentions of the powerful generally were bad news for them, heralding oppression and the loss of things that they cared about. And the lesser nobles in the Westerlands had been relieved by his hands off attitude as well, discovering that he cared little what games they played, so long as they kept the Queen's peace and presented no threat to his house or the Twin Kingdoms.

Even for the Queen this was an agreeable state of affairs, for in many ways this represented what she wanted from her Wardens and Lords Paramounts. Since coming to power she had sought to erode the old system where lords were first loyal to their Warden or Lord Paramount, who in theory were loyal to the ruling monarch in turn. In her own words she wanted to be Queen of one Kingdom, the South Kingdom, not the Queen of six Kingdoms. She wanted every lord in her lands loyal to her directly, with the Wardens and Lords Paramount only functioning as her enforcers. In their new role they were to be peacekeepers and wartime leaders of their regions, but to not seek to lead other regional lords during peacetime. This way she hoped to prevent the existence of internal factions powerful enough to pose a threat to her rule.

If not for the destruction sown by the wars before the Twin Kingdoms such reforms could never have been enacted. Jaime's own father would have been absolutely livid if any ruler had tried to impose such restrictions on him. But as it was the power vacuum back then had left the Queen in a good position to consolidate power into her pretty hands and establish her new order. With a Dragon at her command and the armies of Westeros demolished, none had remained to oppose her in this. Only Dorne with its relatively intact army could have considered so doing, but Manfrey Martell was a mellow man who saw well the wisdom in her words. Under his command Dorne too had accepted the Queen's will. As for Jaime, he did not mind this new way of handling governance. More to the point, he was well past the point of caring. Politics had never been a field of interest to him, and these days that was even more true.

He had truly hoped that after everything that had happened the higher powers would leave him be. Alas, no such luck for him. The Lion had been roused from his slumber, this time summoned by the Dragon to fight her war. So here he was to see things through, because he still had some semblance of honor and sense of duty to him, and because he knew that unless this war was won there might be no future for him and Brienne, since the Orlesians were unlikely to let them simply be at home and live their lives.

Jaime's thoughts were interrupted as he noticed Brienne riding to him, and he smiled despite himself. She was the one remaining bright light of his existence. If not for her he might have given up long ago, just laid down and died.

"Brienne. It's good to see you're alright. How are the men I entrusted to you?" He said to her.

"They came out okay. Your people are well trained. And we had surprise on our side. We lost only a few." Brienne replied.

"You know, if someone had told me that one day I would be fighting alongside Lannister troops… I'm not sure I would have believed it." She added.

"Strange times Brienne, in a strange new world." He said.

"So what is next?" She asked.

"Once we have sorted things out here there will still be the matter of taking the home castle of House Sea. I don't expect that to take very long. After that I have received some new orders from the Queen concerning Riverrun." He said.

"My Lord!" They both heard. Turning their heads they saw a Lannister commander approaching. "My Lord, word from our scouts. There is another army approaching from the south." The commander said.

"Friend or foe?" Jaime asked at once.

"Friend, as far as we can tell. They appear to be troops from the Reach, My Lord. More precisely House Blackwater troops." The commander replied.

"Blackwaters? You're sure?" Jaime asked.

"The banner they displayed was a green flame on a field of black." The commander said.

Jaime nodded. "Well that is House Blackwater's sigil. Even so I want the troops regrouped into battle formations, just in case. It would not be the first time a false banner was used to confuse an enemy."

"At once My Lord." The commander said and left to carry out his orders.

"You're expecting trouble? I thought the enemies we defeated today were the bulk of them here?" Brienne asked.

"That's what I believe as well, and it may still well be true. But in my time I have had to learn the hard way some very important lessons for any commander of an army. One good one is *hope for the best and prepare for the worst*. An even better one is *always expect the unexpected*" Jaime said.

"Still, I'm not terribly worried. This is more likely to be genuine than not. By all reports the main fighting strength of House Sea are now corpses you can see all around, and I have not received any word from anyone about there being another enemy force nearby. The only way there could be one is if there was a very serious oversight, and I have a hard time believing we could make a mistake that bad." He added.

"Sounds like this could be some good news. It would mean that Bronn is still alive." She commented.

"Or at least his troops. But yes, likely good news either way." He said.

As the Lannister troops got themselves organized he and Brienne took their place at the head of the army. Podric found his way to their side as well after a few moments. Then they waited for this second army to appear. They did not have to wait very long. At first a few scouts appeared, riding back as soon as they noticed them, then a little while later the rest of the army arrived in a marching column.

"Good. If they're in marching order they aren't here with the intention of starting a fight." Jaime thought.

The second army stopped itself a respectful distance away, and some time later a small group of riders departed from the main body of the army, heading towards the Lannister lines. Jaime nodded to Brienne, and the two rode to meet the other group of riders along with Podrick and a group of six guards. As they approached Jaime spotted Bronn at the head of the second group. The two groups met at the center of the field separating their armies.

"Lord Bronn. Good to see you again. We were unsure what had happened to you. You have been out of contact." Jaime said in greeting.

"Jaime, Brienne, Podrick." Bronn greeted each of them. That he ignored using their titles did not escape Jaime's notice. Typical.

"Yeah, had some trouble back home at Highgarden. Turns out the Orlesians don't like to play fair, sent assassins after us. Took this long just to get things sorted out. And they killed all the ravens too, so we couldn't send word to anyone." Bronn continued.

"They did the same all over Westeros. Is lady Blackwater alright?" Jaime said.

"Oh, just fine. She sends her regards. Turns out she's a very dangerous lady when she wants to be. Far more than I even knew." Bronn replied, his tone light.

"Looks like you've had a busy day." He then said, eyeing the battlefield around him.

"Yes, we took out an enemy ambush, dealt with House Sea's main fighting force." Jaime said.

"I just came from their home castle myself. It was deserted, not a soul in sight, so I left a garrison of my lads there to hold it and came here looking for the rest of the bastards. And then my scouts found you lot instead." Bronn explained.

"So you took the castle? Good. That will save us some time." Jaime said, nodding his approval.

"Are your boys, uh, waiting for something?" Bronn asked, nodding towards the Lannister host arrayed into battlelines.

Jaime glanced at his troops. "Ah yes, sorry about that. We had to be sure it was you. With everything that was going on it felt like a sensible precaution. I'll tell them to stand down now of course." He nodded to Podric, who rode off to deliver his commands.

Bronn meanwhile turned to one of the riders he was with. "Tell the lads to take a break while I have words with Lord Lannister here."

"Yes My Lord." The rider said and left.

Bronn smiled. "Still enjoy it when they call me that."

"I count your army to number around four thousand. Mostly the troops of your own House I think?" Jaime said.

Bronn nodded. "Yup. The three thousand the Queen allows me to have for *peacekeeping*. Plus some of me bannermen I picked up along the way. No idea where the rest of them are though."

"You'll be pleased to hear that we have some of your bannermen with us." Jaime said. "They joined with us on a temporary basis since they didn't know what had happened to you. Now that you're here I'm sure they'll wish to join with you again. Most of the rest are with the Queen's army now."

"That's good to hear. Does anyone have an idea what were supposed to be doing now that House Sea is done for?" Bronn asked.

"We do indeed. The Queen has ordered me to remain in reserve. She didn't mention you though. I assume she thought you dead or at least unable to respond." Jaime said.

"I'm not quite that easy to kill." Bronn quipped.

"No indeed." Jaime chuckled. "Anyway if she knew you were alive I'm rather sure she would order you to join forces with her. The last messages put her army just beyond the Ruby Ford. Your forces are welcome to travel with us as far as Riverrun. The Queen wants me to check on the situation there so we'll be going the same way already."

"My soldiers just came out of a fight, and your troops likely have a long day's march behind them. I suggest we let them rest here tonight and set out tomorrow at first light. If you'd like to join me and Brienne for supper this evening, we'd enjoy your company. There's quite a lot of catching up for us to do I think. It's been a few years since we last talked."

"No surprise, what with you spending all your time holed up in Casterly Rock and me busy with my own work. Supper sounds nice though. If we ought to talk might as well do it over food, right? And all this wandering about does make a man rather hungry. I do enjoy touring my lands of course. Lovely country. It's just the reason I have to do that I don't much care about." Bronn said.

"You know, I was just about starting to enjoy my early retirement. I had more or less everything I could have wished for. Lands I owned that provided a living for me, more wealth than I could ever spend, servants to chase after whatever craving I happened to have and a pretty highborn lady for a wife. And then all this happened." He added with no small amount of bitterness.

"Well, contrary to what the smallfolk seem to think being a lord does include some responsibilities. Particularly for ones as important as you or I. Particularly in the world built by Queen Daenerys." Jaime said.

"True enough." Bronn sighed. "Still, had I known that something like this might be coming along I might have thought twice about asking you to give me a castle in payment."

"Asking for a castle? Oh is that what you call it when you point a crossbow at someone and threaten to shoot them unless they pay up all their debts?" Jaime joked.

"Hey now, I only did that after you and Tyrion skipped out on payments for too long." Bronn countered. "Had to make sure people who owe me pay up on time, particularly when they have a boast that they always do so. Back then if I didn't do that I'd have never been paid by anyone. And it wasn't anything personal either. I still think you and your brother are fun company to hang around. Seriously, you can't still be angry about that. That whole mess happened eight years ago."

"No, no, I suppose that I'm not. It's old history. Just water under the bridge. Doesn't mean that I don't enjoy reminding you about it every now and then. I've got to be allowed to have some peculiarities, no?" Jaime said.

"Wait wait wait. Bronn did what?" Brienne asked, shocked.

At first Jaime looked surprised. Then he snapped his fingers. "Oh, right. I never told you about that incident, did I? Sorry. As I said, it's old history for me." He smiled apologetically. "Look… it's a bit of a long story. I'll tell you all about it later. Right now I think I we have things to do."

"We'll, Lord Blackwater, I'll be seeing you later this evening. For now I think I should attend to my troops. If I might be excused?" Jaime finished the conversation, then turned his horse back towards his army, with Brienne and his bodyguards following close by and Bronn returning to his army as well. Jaime ended up inviting Podrick to take part in the supper as well. The man was a mere knight of course, but he knew all three of them as friends and had been a participant alongside them in many events of the past and present, so Jaime thought he had a right to be there. The supper itself was uneventful enough, although their conversations inevitably turned to reminiscing and in the course of that they did end up drinking too much.

The next morning, still working through hangovers, they set off on the long road towards Riverrun, to find out what in the hells had happened there.


	30. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29; Negotiations;**

**Characters of the chapter:**

**Bazyl Joubert, **Orlesian ambassador to the South Kingdom of the Twin Kingdoms

**Grand Cleric Beatrice **Grand Cleric of Westeros, head of the Chantry in King's Landing

**Nathaniel Howe **Commander of the Grey in Westeros

**Thom "Blackwall" Rainier **Senior Grey Warden, assigned to Westeros

**Tyrion Lannister, **Hand of the Queen to Queen Daenerys

"Don't try to blame my people for this!" Beatrice shouted, slamming her hands on the table.

"The High Septon is dead!" Tyrion shouted back, sitting in his chair. "And last time we conversed you displayed no small amount of animosity towards him. You were just about to order your followers to assault his. You regarded him as a direct threat to your people, which you said you were willing to go to great lengths to protect. One can see why you might view him as a threat that needed to be removed. And by your own words you were tempted to violence towards him. So you certainly had a motive."

She scoffed. "I grant you that everything you just said was very true. I'm not shedding any tears for that piece of shit, and I certainly had a motive to do him harm. But I didn't act on that motivation. As far as I know neither I nor anyone else in the Chantry gave orders for anything like this to happen. As I explained during our last conversation my side in this confrontation will not be the first to use violence. My believers will defend their right to live and the right to worship our Maker. But that is all we will do, and all we want to do."

"Then who would you choose to blame instead?" He demanded.

"I haven't the fairest idea who might be behind this. I wish I knew, so I could first congratulate them on a job well done, then deliver the information to you so you can cast blame in the right place and stop pointing fingers at me and mine. I only know with certainty a single a faction that had nothing to do with this. My own." She said.

Tyrion pinched the bridge of his nose. "And do you have any evidence to that effect?"

Beatrice gave a dry smile. "How does one prove lack of action? But I don't think it is my business to prove my innocence in this matter. You have accused me of a crime and I have denied it. Now you can either take me at my word or you can investigate and hold a trial in an effort to prove my guilt. Now, it won't do you any good to try, but if you choose to investigate then you can rely on my full cooperation."

"I can?" He said, sounding dubious.

"Of course. I know that I haven't done anything, and so I have a vested interest in helping any investigation along, so my innocence and the innocence of the institution I represent can be proven with finality." She said.

"That's very good to hear. But I hope you understand that I'm not the only problem facing you know. Because members of the Faith of the Seven in the city judge you guilty already. Their leader is dead, and your faith is easiest thing for them to lash out at. To them that this happened at all is all the excuse they needed."

"I'm aware. And my people will do what is necessary in response." She said.

"I did not sanction violence before. I will not sanction it now." Tyrion warned.

"I got the message the first time. As I have said several times now, we will not be the ones to use violence first. But if it comes down to that we will have no choice but to defend ourselves. So if you want to prevent violence I think you have a great deal of work to do." She said.

"Aye. And as my first action in dealing with this I give you this warning: For your sake I hope you have been honest with me about the Chantry's involvement in this. Because if I find out that you have lied to me now, that you pulled this stunt to make this fight with the Faith of the Seven happen…" Tyrion said.

"Oh save your threats, Lord Hand!" Beatrice interrupted, not trying to hide the irritation in her voice.

"I could have made my move some time ago if I wished. I would approve of open conflict with the Faith of the Seven, but even so I never pushed to have that conflict, because I had no interest in antagonizing you or the Queen. But clearly whoever did this had no such problem, and they wanted this conflict to happen more than I did. It seems very possible to me that the Chantry is the real victim here, being framed for a deed we never committed. And right now you are playing right into the hands of those who seek to make us look like the guilty party. If I were you I'd spend a little more time contemplating that nasty possibility and a little less on pointless attempts at intimidation." She added with venom, then stormed off, slamming the door shut behind her.

Tyrion gave an annoyed sigh and leaned back on his chair. He was seriously starting to get annoyed by that woman and her persistently confrontational attitude! That behavior alone reflected poorly on her, making her appear that much more guilty in Tyrion's eyes. Still, in her finishing words she had made a decent point. While she might still be behind this outrage, there was also a possibility that some other faction was trying to set her up. The Orlesians might certainly be trying to create conflict between the faiths and so reinforce the message that they were here to protect the Chantry believers from rampant aggression. It would be an extremely dangerous move for them to make, since getting caught would bring the ire of the Chantry down upon their heads worse than it already had been, to say nothing of the Faith of the Seven. But nevertheless it was feasible. Briefly he wondered if I might be a good idea to talk to Bazyl, see if he knew whether there was truth to that possibility. But very quickly he concluded that would be a waste of time. Even if his Orlesian friend had knowledge of his people's involvement in this, he would not tell the truth of it. That much he had made clear in their last conversation. Besides, just as well there might be some third faction involved that he was not yet aware of. Now that he had time to think he had to concede that he did not yet know the responsible party with any certainty.

As soon as he had heard of what had happened to the High Septon he had dispatched some of his agents to examine the available evidence. Soon they would be returning to him with their findings. Assuming of course that those who had first discovered the ambush site had not messed it up already. Tyrion hoped that enough would remain to begin uncovering the truth of what had occurred. Once he had information to work with he would have to examine the facts very carefully. He could not afford to take anything for granted. He could accept no evidence at face value. If there was any truth to the Grand Cleric's words, the ones responsible might not stop at merely doing the deed of murdering the High Septon. They would be planting fabricated evidence to lead suspicions in the direction they desired. He would have to figure out if the evidence he would be presented with was the real thing, or merely someone trying to make him see what they wanted him to see. All that was hard enough, but if the latter turned out to be the case, things would get… complicated. Given that he didn't know whether this attack was directed against the Faith of the Seven, the Chantry or the Twin Kingdoms, the list of potential culprits was endless. He would have to whittle the candidates down until he was left with only the one. All that was going to be very difficult.

"Damn. I really am not cut out for this kind of work." He cursed, and not for the first time. Spy work and information gathering had never been his specialty. That had always been Varys's domain, up until the point he had decided to explore new career options, like becoming a pile of ash. Since his passing Tyrion had done his best to fill in, because Daenerys had neglected to appoint another Master of Whisperers. He was smart enough to learn the basics of the trade soon enough, and he liked to think he had done well enough. His efforts had gotten the Queen a great deal of much needed information, after all.

That *well enough* was probably why she had not bothered to appoint a proper replacement for Varys. That, or past experiences had soured her view of the role, causing her to try to make do without a Master of Whisperers. But gradually over the years Tyrion had become aware of other actors on the field, ones that evidently were far more practiced in this kind of work than he was. Event the Spider might have had difficulties with them, since Tyrion rather suspected he would not have been used to being challenged in his field of work. Tyrion was wise enough to know when he was outmatched, and brave enough to admit it. *Well enough* was not going to cut it any longer, especially not at a time the country was at war. They were going to need a new spymaster, and soon. Someone who could match these myriad clandestine enemies in their own game. Fortunately Daenerys had already given her agreement to that, based on the conversation they had had just before they had received word of the Orlesian invasion. All that remained now was to find a suitable person to fill that role.

Tyrion was still mulling over these questions when there was a knock at the door. A servant entered, bowing to him. "My Lord, as you requested, the Orlesian ambassador has arrived. He just entered the grounds of the Red Keep."

"Excellent, guide him here if you would." Tyrion said. A little while later Bazyl walked through the door while his guards (only four this time) politely remained on the far side of the door.

"My friend! Good to see you again. I must say it happened rather sooner than I had expected. I thought our agreement was that we were only to meet on official business." The ambassador greeted him.

"This happens to be official business. A matter made rather urgent by recent events. Please be seated." Tyrion said.

"My condolences about the High Septon by the way. I never claimed to like the man, but to be murdered on the road in cold blood… it seems a rather undeserved ending even for him. And I can only imagine the mess this has landed on your shoulders. I do not envy you, my friend." The Ambassador said.

"You have heard of that already!? I just received word of that myself." Tyrion asked, shocked.

"Lord Tyrion, I endeavor to know as much as I can about the world around me. Such is the prerequisite for performing my assigned tasks." Bazyl replied. "On my way here I came across the Grand Cleric. She looked positively enraged. I gather you confronted her about the murder." He added.

"I'm unsure what gave you that idea. Animosity towards her surroundings appears to be her normal state of being, at least in my experience." Tyrion said with a glint in his eye.

Bazyl laughed. "Well, let's say she was angrier than is typical of her."

"Of course, her attitude is understandable." He added seriously.

"It is?" Tyrion said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes. Are you aware of her background, My Lord?" The ambassador said.

"I know she's Westerosi. And I'm rather certain she's of no particularly high birth, otherwise I might have run across her name at one time or another." Tyrion said.

"It could be said that she was the opposite of being a highborn. Before she was involved with the Chantry she worked in one of the, um, establishments maintained by Lord… what was his name? Baelish! That was the name." The ambassador said.

"Littlefinger? She was one of his girls?" Tyrion said, this time raising both eyebrows. "Then it's truly a wonder I didn't know her form before. I've known quite a few women from that line of work."

"It would seem that this one escaped your notice. Sadly for her not being noticed has been a common theme in many points of her life. When the Sparrows took over the city they ransacked all Lord Baelish's brothels, and she was thrown to the streets to eke out a living in a city that didn't care whether she lived or died, amongst a populace that had always looked down on everyone like her, and was rapidly being reconditioned to outright despise her kind. And her lot didn't improve under Queen Cersei's reign. Even during the rule of Queen Daenerys she was overlooked. I suppose that with such large, all-encompassing designs upon the world single individuals may fall between the cracks." The ambassador said.

"How do you know all this?" Tyrion asked.

"As I said, I make it a point to know the world around me. And after becoming Grand Cleric she was noteworthy enough for me to pursue that line of inquiry." Bazyl answered.

"Anyway, with the arrival of the Chantry things finally got better for her. They were the ones to take her in when the rest of the city wouldn't lift a finger to help her. They were her salvation when the rest of the world had already condemned her. That kindness and compassion she repaid with absolute loyalty. She proved very accepting of the Chantry's teachings, climbing through the ranks with great speed, until finally Divine Victoria appointed her as the Grand Cleric to Westeros, seeing in her an opportunity to show what can become of a person who chooses the Chantry through hard work and belief. Also a chance to appoint someone born in Westeros to a position of importance, thus improving the Chantry's aims to be recognized as a domestic faith rather than a foreign religion brought and practiced by outsiders. The story of the Grand Cleric is one among many who have come to the service of the Chantry. They have often provided succor to those with a troubled past, and that strategy has gained them many loyal allies over the years." He said then.

Tyrion was quiet for a time. "It seems you were right. Knowledge of her past does help to understand her behavior a great deal better. The venom she carries towards the Faith of the Seven stems from the fact they tore apart what little she had in this life, and some of that ire spills over to the crown because we failed to heed her in her misery. Thank you ambassador. Thank you for educating me in this matter."

"Yes, well, I recommend not speaking to the Grand Cleric about this. It's probable that her past is still very much a sore point for her. Attempting to converse with her about the matter would likely make her even more difficult." Bazyl said.

"Oh, I won't be. Still, the knowledge itself can have its uses. You never know." Tyrion said.

"As it happens I don't think she is a very likely suspect in the murder of the High Septon, despite her animosity towards them. Her loyalty to the Chantry prevents that. She may want a conflict with the faith of the Seven, but she knows that the Divine doesn't, and Beatrice won't go against her wishes. And she knows that if it comes to open conflict between the faiths her people will suffer alongside the enemy. And that is something she doesn't want. If her people are attacked she will consider herself obligated to retaliate to defend them, but she would be reluctant to be the instigator, because she knows what it will bring." Bazyl said.

"And I suppose that now you are about to tell me what faction is actually behind this?" Tyrion said snarkily.

"Would that I could. But alas, even I do not possess that information at this time. And I'm sure that my nation is among your many, many suspects. I would refute that notion, but I have a feeling my words will not be sufficient." The ambassador said.

"Not on their own I'm afraid. But if you wish to go through the motions I will allow it. If you wish to." Tyrion said.

"I do, and I thank you for permitting me to do so." Bazyl said with a bow of his head. "My central argument against Orlesian involvement in this is that it is unnecessary. Yes, our operatives have sought to cause chaos and disruption, but that is something that has already been done. Nothing more is required on that front. And if more were to be needed later our actions would certainly be directed against the crowns we are currently at war with, not the faiths."

"One could argue that your objective might have been to reinforce the idea that the Chantry believers are in danger, and that your forces are here to protect them." Tyrion pointed out.

"One could make the argument, but again that would be unnecessary. We are already here, our claim already made. Those of our people who have sided with the Emperor and are willing to believe his claims already do, and the rest won't change their mind unless the Divine does. If we win we will get to write history as we please, and then the truth will be what we make of it. No need for us to arrange for anything of this sort." Bazyl countered.

"Furthermore if we won after doing this we would be stuck cleaning up a religious conflict we ourselves would have had a hand in making. Not a smart thing for us to do. And if we lose then the killing of the High Septon would have simply been pointless. The High Septon simply had no strategic value to our efforts here, no disrespect intended to his memory of course." He finished.

Tyrion nodded. "Well, thank you for you counter arguments. If you have told the truth I'm sure the evidence will exonerate your nation."

"I should certainly hope so." Bazyl said before clearing up and sitting up straighter. "But enough about that. I seem to remember you saying that you had called me here on official business. So, My Lord Hand, what can the Orlesian Empire do for you today?"

"Actually, it's more about what you yourself can do for me. And actually it is related to what we just discussed." Tyrion said. "It is something I had hoped could wait for a little while longer, but as recent events have shown, the need has now become pressing."

"You see, with the death of the High Septon a retaliation against the Chantry may be imminent. The fanatics among the Faith of the Seven will not be content to wait for the crown to find out the guilty party and punish them. Odds are they have already made up their minds, and will soon act on what they think they know. If that attack takes place Beatrice will consider herself justified to strike back in the name of the Chantry. That in turn will result in retaliation after retaliation until matters spiral into complete and utter chaos. I cannot allow that to happen. The Queen's available forces in the capital and elsewhere in the South Kingdom stand ready to stop and shut down any violence between these groups. On that regard we are ready. But I also require troops to defend the Chantry Cathedral here; to stand between fanatics and ensure that any violence directed against the Cathedral or its occupants is preemptively halted until my investigation is concluded and justice has been meted out through proper, lawful channels." He explained.

"And you come to me? I am uncertain why you would require my involvement. The Twin Kingdoms cannot be so starved for troops that some could not be spared for this task." Bazyl said.

"Numbers aren't the issue here. The issue is that at this time the Twin Kingdoms cannot be seen taking any sides except that of peace. That's the only way this can be kept from escalating. Our forces can handle stopping this elsewhere as part of our normal duties of keeping order. But the Cathedral has never been our area of responsibility to guard. If we deploy there those sided with the Faith of the Seven will think the crown has taken the Chantry's side, a group they currently believe to be responsible for the murder of the High Septon. It's like to cause the very thing we are trying to stop. No doubt the Grand Cleric would also be all too eager to claim that she had our support."

"So in other words you believe that direct involvement on your part will only make the problem worse. So now you are seeking alternate means of getting this done." The ambassador said.

"Quite." Tyrion said. "I have been in talks with the Inquisition, and they have readily agreed to provide troops as part of their overall mission of helping keep peace in the world. They are already affiliated with the Chantry, so their involvement won't give the Grand Cleric support she doesn't already have. At the same time the Inquisition has an independent command structure and a reputation for neutrality, so they hopefully will not be seen as an aggressive actor under the command of the Chantry. The Inquisition assets in the city are unfortunately insufficient, so I have also been in talks with other Thedosian ambassadors here, and a number of them have agreed to place a number of their personal guards under the command of the Inquisition for their support. Together they will present a force that will be intimidating for poorly armed fanatics to take on. At the same time they will be a purely defensive force, driven only to prevent or at least contain violence from happening, without at the same time becoming a vehicle through which more harm could be done. I have the most of the pieces I need in place. Just one more piece is required to make sure this works. That means your personal guard, or more precisely half of them. I would ask you to commit one hundred of your guards to this effort."

The ambassador leaned forward in his chair, taking a deep breath. "Lord Tyrion… I can see why you would want this. But considering what the situation is now I do not think that..."

"In return for each soldier you assign, I am prepared to recall one Unsullied soldier watching over your residence, up to half their current numbers, to stay away for as long as your guards are attending to their task. They are as many as your own guards, so a balance of numbers will be maintained." Tyrion cut in calmly, holding up his hand.

"You would do that? Why?" Bazyl asked, surprised.

"Quite simply to give you something in return for your cooperation. I'm sure that the presence of the Unsullied is quite a disruption in your life. Almost certainly you would like to have that disruption reduced." Tyrion replied.

"It's true, those soldiers are quite a burden. Dutiful lads I grant, but perhaps a bit too much so." The ambassador mused. "But tell me, how will the Orlesian Empire benefit from this? Given that our nations are at war I believe that is a requirement before I can offer my assistance to you and the Twin Kingdoms in this matter." He asked then.

Tyrion gave a sly smile, having already anticipated this move. "Well, as your Emperor has claimed, his armies are here to offer protection to the Chantry's faithful against rampant aggression from the local faiths. Now there is a good opportunity to demonstrate that this is indeed what you intend to do. On the other hand, your nation would look quite hypocritical if they did nothing when an actual danger reared its head."

"Ah. And this is why you went to the other ambassadors first. My nation can I'll afford to look hypocritical when every other Thedosian nation is already onboard. Even you are doing your part in this by maintaining peace where you can. Well played My Lord." The ambassador said.

"Thank you." Tyrion said with a nod. "But I would much rather do this with your willing support. You said that Orlais would not want this chaos. On those grounds and on our friendship I implore you, help me do this."

Bazyl sighed. "Very well. Give me one day to arrange matters, and then we may make a formal agreement. I trust that will be soon enough for your purposes?"

Tyrion nodded, and Bazyl stood up. "Excellent. Until next time then." He said and left for the door. Just as he raised his hand to the door handle he stopped and turned back to Tyrion: "My Lord, I have also been privy to the rumor that you have called Warden Commander Nathaniel to see you. Something about you trying to convince them to side with The Twin Kingdoms and against the Empire?"

Tyrion quickly hid his surprise that the ambassador already knew of that. "Considering the diplomatic status of our nations I'm afraid I can't confirm or deny." He said nonchalantly.

The ambassador chuckled. "Of course. Still, in an instance where you were planning on doing such a thing I would advise you to focus your efforts on something more productive. It is not the way of Grey Wardens to participate in conflicts like this. Attempting to convince them to do so is just a waste of your time, and theirs. Just as well I suppose. Grey Wardens are few in number, but extremely able combatants. Some of the best this world has to offer in fact. I would hate to see them in opposition to my people."

"Well, of course in that scenario you would understand that I could not simply accept whatever advice you have to give and I would have to make my own judgement." Tyrion said.

"I guess so." Bazyl said with a sigh. "You know, one more reason I hope for this war to end is so we can stop dancing around these subjects. Oh well…" He said as last words before departing. Tyrion for his part went back to work waiting for the Commander of the Grey to grace him with his presence.

* * *

"No! Out of the question!" Shouted Nathaniel Howe later that day.

"If you would just listen…" Tyrion tried to say.

"There is nothing to listen to. This is not something the Grey Wardens can take part in." Nathaniel interrupted.

"May I remind you that the Grey Wardens operate here at our sufferance. The Queen allowed your presence here on the theory your order could help her defend her realm. She provided you a base of operations here. She expects you to earn your keep in return for that." Tyrion said sternly.

"And if darkspawn ever threaten the Twin Kingdoms the Grey Wardens will stand ready to lead the battle against them. But if she allowed us here so we could be used to fight her political wars, then she was sadly misinformed as to the purpose of our order. The Grey Wardens exist for a singular purpose: to combat the threat of the Blights. If that is not good enough for her then it is within her power to exile us, but I tell you now that doing so would be utter folly on her part." Nathaniel said.

"Protection against creatures on the far side of the world." Tyrion said, unable to keep himself from rolling his eyes. "Do you truly think that an adequate justification for you being here, a foreign organization that has recruited many of our most able into your ranks over the years?"

"It should be. The darkspawn may seem a distant problem now. Perhaps it will remain that way for centuries to come. Perhaps it will remain that way forever. I hope you will be so fortunate. But I fought them in Amaranthine, and many more times since. I have seen what they did to Ferelden in the course of a single year. Trust me, if they come you will need us. Then we will be your only solution to their threat." Nathaniel said. It was the last thing he had to say, so he turned and strode away, leaving the stunned Hand of the Queen in his study.

As he was making his way through the throne room he came across Blackwall, leaning against the wall. Like Nathaniel he had been sent to King's Landing along with others to form the senior leadership of the Wardens in Westeros until the local recruits were experienced enough to take their place.

"So, what did the Hand of the Queen want?" Blackwall asked as his commander came close, matching his pace as he passed.

"To drag us into their war. I told him no in a way that should leave no ambiguity as to our stance on the matter." Nathaniel said.

"I have been thinking about that. Maybe we should help them. It's not right for the locals to be invaded like this by Orlais. In our time here I have gotten to know some of the locals and I can tell you that they deserve better than that. The Orlesians won't care for them. To the Empire they are just people they can tax and take from."

"Thom, don't start that with me. I already had Lord Tyrion trying to turn my head on this, I don't need you trying to do so as well. We are not a political order. These are not the kind of fights we are meant to get ourselves involved in." Nathaniel said, not trying to hide his irritation.

"The Hero of Ferelden did during the Fifth Blight. I did during the Breach War. And the other Wardens followed suite after Adamant." Blackwall argued.

"Mahariel only did what she did because she needed everyone united against the Archdemon. And the Wardens of Adamant joined with the Inquisition when it became clear that they had been manipulated by an intelligent darkspawn that was going to take over the world and enslave the wardens to serve as his minions. Both cases were exceptional circumstances requiring exceptional action in response to world ending threats. The war between the Twin Kingdoms and the Orlesian Empire is nothing of the sort. And you yourself are a poor example in your argument, since you weren't even a Warden when you joined the Inquisition." Nathaniel countered.

"But let's just for a moment imagine that we do side with the Twin Kingdoms in this war." He continued. "Imagine next that Orlais wins this war despite our interventions, which is entirely possible, since our numbers aren't great and we could simply be overwhelmed. Assuming any of us survive our confrontation with the Empire, they will be most displeased that we got in their way. The very least they will do to us then will be to throw us out of Westeros for fighting them, and perhaps from Orlais as well. The case of Sophia Dryden back in Ferelden is ample proof that that's exactly what would happen. Suppose that after we have been exiled there is another Blight, one that hits these lands. How many more lives will be lost then, because we weren't there to stop the darkspawn? And even if none of that happens taking part in this war would likely get some of us killed. Those are lives we can ill afford to lose against anything that is not the enemy our order was created to defeat. Those are our reasons. That is why we cannot be involved in this. We stand for them all, which is why we cannot stand for any one in particular."

Blackwall raised his hands in defeat. "Alright, alright, I get it. I don't like it, but I understand."

"Good. But this conversation does remind me of something. I got word that we are going to get some new recruits from Thedas. We'll get them after the war obviously, since travel from Thedas is restricted at the moment, but they will be coming." Nathaniel said.

"That _is _good news. Local recruits only get us so far, particularly since we cannot conscript them. But why did you say that our conversation reminded you of this?" Blackwall said.

"Because among those recruits there is one that would also likely wish for Warden involvement in this war. An old friend of yours. Someone from Westeros." Nathaniel said.

Briefly Blackwall was puzzled, unsure who Nathaniel was referring to. Then his eyes widened. "Oh? She made her choice then?"

"She did indeed, a few months back in fact." Nathaniel said with a nod. "I guess she forgot to tell you."

"She always has been lousy at writing letters." Blackwall chuckled.

"Well now you know. She's one of us." Nathaniel said. "You seem less surprised about that than I expected." He added.

"She was always headstrong about her intentions. She was headstrong about most everything she ever decided to do in fact. I was the one who insisted she should wait and take a closer look before jumping. Apparently that did not deter her." Blackwall said. He sighed. "I hope she made the right choice for herself. I would hate for her to regret it later. Because this is one she will never be able to walk back."

"Surprised she's coming here though. She once told me she had no intentions of ever returning to Westeros." He added.

"Well I didn't expect to come here either. I didn't even expect for there to _be _a here. Neither did you. But fate has a strange way of playing these kinds of tricks on you. As someone who is from Westeros the folks back home felt she could help the other recruits acclimatize more quickly. And of course every Warden originally from Westeros we have serving here is a symbolic achievement for us. It will help us root ourselves more firmly in this part of the world." Nathaniel said.

"Very true. And I wonder if she would feel differently about coming here now that she knows about the Orlesian invasion." Blackwall said.

"Very likely. Which why I'm actually glad they are being sent here only after the war. I can't claim to know her as well as you do, but what I do know tells me that the reality of what it means to be a Warden might not have quite sunken in yet. I don't want her starting some renegade operation on her own because of her past loyalties. I understand why she might wish to, and I sympathize with that. Maker only knows what I would wish to do if my sister or nephew were in danger. But even so it is too much. As a Warden she cannot involve herself, for reasons I already explained." Nathaniel said.

"You do realize that if she wants to come here to fight in this war there's very little she will allow to stop herself from doing so?" Blackwall said.

"I know. And even with travel limited there are illicit methods that could get her here. I'm hoping that her friends in the Wardens will be able to keep her from doing anything stupid."

"To that end I'd like you to write to her. Remind her of her responsibilities as a Warden. I would do that myself, but I have never been more to her than someone of superior rank. She's not going to listen to me. But maybe you know the ways to get through to her." Nathaniel told his fellow Warden.

"I'll do what I can." Blackwall said.

"Good. That's all I ask. A Grey Warden should set aside the person they used to be. At a times like this… that can be a lot to ask. But all the more important she is made to understand that now."

"Yeah, one should set aside who they used to be. But hardly any of us manage it all the way." Blackwall said in contemplation.

"I'd say none of us really do." Nathaniel agreed. "It's just how it is with people. There's no escaping it. We are defined by our past and present in equal measure, and we use both to define our future. We can only hope her past won't affect her present so much she will compromise her future."


	31. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30; The foe revealed;**

**Characters of the chapter**

**Alexander de Rozien, **Chevalier of Orlais, Marshal of the Grand Army of Orlais, supreme commander of the Orlesian invasion of Westeros

**Edmond Brahms, **Knight of Nevarra, Military advisor to the court of King Jon

**Gilbert Gagnon, **Spymaster for Marshal Alexander de Rozien, liaison on behalf of Marquis Briala

**Jon Snow, **also known as Aegon Targaryen and Jon Stark, King of the North Kingdom of the Twin Kingdoms

**Michel de Chevin, **Chevalier of Orlais

**Ynessa des Montagnes, **Chevalier of Orlais, Dueling Champion to de Rozien, Chosen Sword of Orlais

_**Cursive/Bold text is in Orlesian **_

Jon was at the head of a marching column, his horse plodding along a dirt path. To his left there was a patch of forest, before him the path was snaking forward endlessly, and behind him his army streamed forth in a line just as endless as the road. The sun was setting. In an hour or two it would be dark, and his army would be setting camp for the night. For several days this had been the routine. They marched for the whole day, stopped at the evening to rest, attended to whatever the army needed attending to while they were stopped, then started again the next morning.

And he was bored out of his skull.

These were the dull parts that never made it into any of the songs. On this journey to the next battle there was absolutely nothing to do except travel, travel, travel, travel… It was almost a relief to stop at the evenings and attend to the supply situation and the other minutiae of the army's functioning. At least that broke the monotony with more varied activity.

Jon tried to remind himself to try and enjoy the calm while it lasted. His army was now on its way to Moat Cailin. Lord Glover was already there, and by his latest reports he had been engaged by a large Orlesian force that by his message numbered in tens of thousands. It was impossible to know whether the force attacking Moat Cailin was the entirety of their army or just a portion of it, but it was now obvious that the Orlesians had decided to focus their attention on the North. Jon was pleased to note that his words had been taken to heart, and that Lord Glover was holding his ground despite the numerical superiority of the enemy. Now it was just a matter of reaching them before it was too late. Once they arrived it would be their job to hold the line in their turn and wait for Daenerys's army to catch up. Once that fighting started there would be no more calm for a long while to come. Once it started every day would be a day of fighting, with the Orlesians pushing against them and them resisting.

Jon was confident that they could hold their own while the enemy was still trying to get through Moat Cailin. There the forces of the North would have the advantage, no matter the enemy's numbers, no matter what crazy supernatural weapons the Orlesians might bring into the fight. That Lord Glover was able to defend the castle at all with just five hundred men against a force that outnumbered his many times over was proof this. But as soon as the enemy concluded they couldn't fight their way through Moat Cailin, they would begin seeking their way around it, and they had a fleet to accomplish this. He would have to be careful and be ready to act at once if the Orlesian army tried to make landfall elsewhere in the North. Early warning would be critical in that. The Orlesian army was far larger than his, so if they sought to come ashore he would need to hit them before they had had time to disembark all their troops. If he managed that he would have a chance to push the enemy back into the sea and inflict a crippling blow to them in the bargain. If they managed to level the bulk of their strength against his army… the situation would become very dangerous. But hopefully Daenerys's army would come along soon to attack the Imperials from the other side or to reinforce his army if the Orlesians had already circumvented his defenses.

As to where his wife's army was right now, he was uncertain. It had been impossible to get news south of the Neck. Even the raven he had sent to enquire whether Daenerys had been attacked by the Orlesian assassins had never returned. As a result he didn't even know if she was alive. That lack of knowing had made him worry constantly. He tried to keep it from getting in the way of his work. But during quiet moments it was difficult. Particularly during nighttime when he was trying to sleep his concerns over her had a nasty way of bubbling to the surface, depriving him of rest. During those times he tried to remind him of reasons that gave him cause for optimism. There had still been no attacks against him or any lord in his army. For some reason the Orlesian agents had avoided them altogether. The same could well be true of Daenerys as well. Perhaps the assassins had only targeted Winterfell after all? And surely if her army had been defeated on the field he would have heard of it despite the difficulty of getting news. Surely in that case the Orlesian army would have turned southwards to secure the far more tempting prize of the South Kingdom. Unless they already had, and were now on their way to finishing off his Kingdom as well? But no. Their army could not possibly move that fast, and if the South Kingdom had surrendered, then surely the Empire would have sent messengers telling him so in the hopes he too would yield.

In the end there was nothing to be done except hope. He just wished he could know for certain. He wished she could be there with him. Her council and her love would have been welcome things to have at his side.

Jon shook his head. The uncertainty was one more reason he disliked being on the march right now. There was far too much time to think, far too much time to conjure up one nightmare scenario after another. Still, had he known what would happen in a few moments he might have preferred the current circumstances.

Suddenly there was a commotion behind him, and he turned his head, thinking that perhaps one of the wagons had broken down or something similar. What he saw instead was that his marching army was being peppered with arrows coming from the woods. The arrows weren't many and they were not fired in volleys, but they were striking with remarkable accuracy, almost every one fired claiming a life.

"Empereur et Empire!" A shout echoed from the woods before Jon had even had time to recover from his shock. Then to the thunder of hooves hundreds of cavalrymen charged from deep inside the forest, crashing into the column.

"Shit." Jon cursed. "Defend yourselves! For the North, with me!" He shouted, charging against the enemy, drawing his sword. The ambush had sent the northerners into disarray, but they rallied to their King's example and attacked the enemy with everything they had. The parts of the column nearest to them had also realized what was happening and were moving to reinforce their comrades.

Jon cut down the first two enemy riders that sought to intercept him. Then Jon spotted an enemy mounted atop a an armored horse barking orders to the other ambushers, using a sword wreathed in lightning to cut down any of Jon's soldiers that managed to get too close. Guessing that this one had to be the leader of this raid, Jon urged his horse to a gallop heading straight for the Orlesian. Along the way two more riders and one dismounted enemy tried to get in his way. Each got a taste of Longclaw, not even managing to slow him down.

His target spotted him just as he was on him. The Orlesian spat out words that to Jon's ear sounded like curses, and swung his weapon in response to the King's attack. With a clang metal met metal, the electricity on the Orlesian's blade intensifying briefly. Fortunately the electricity was not conductive, but remained on the blade where it originated. Jon noted how skilled the Orlesian was as they exchanged a dozen more blows before Jon finally managed to land a hit on his opponent's shoulder. Then, for the first time ever, Longclaw failed to get through the armor, merely denting the metal. Yellow runes glowed on the section of armor he had struck, disappearing as soon as Jon withdrew his blade.

"Enchanted armor." Jon concluded with slight astonishment. He had heard that some rich Thedosians could have such things, but this was his first encounter with such. And apparently it was strong enough to repel even Valyrian steel. This was going to complicate things. The two battled on, matching blow to blow, Jon's eyes seeking a weak point in his opponent. Then he remembered what he had heard Edmond instruct about Orlesian armor: Go for the parts not covered in metal. With that memory in mind he brought his horse as close to his enemy as he could, their steeds flank against flank, and swung a heavy blow to knock the Orlesian's blade aside. Then, rather than waste precious moments to bring his sword around, leaving his opponent time to recover an parry, Jon instead made a pulling motion with Longclaw, sliding the edge along the Chevalier's belly. There was not much force in his attack, but the unnaturally sharp Valyrian steel bit through the fabric easily enough. Clearly the fabric was not enchanted like the rest of the armor. Not perhaps the most elegant of moves on Jon's part, but it got the job done.

Trying to hold his guts in with both hands the Orlesian fell to the ground with a groan. Like with other warhorses, as soon as the Chevalier was off the saddle his horse went crazy, rearing and kicking, and Jon hastily directed his own horse away to avoid being hit by the animal's hooves.

He turned his head to look around, then flinched as an arrow brushed his cheek, leaving behind a red scrape. Arrows fired with pinpoint accuracy were still hitting his troops, dropping northmen as they fought amidst the chaos. Raising his free hand to his cheek, Jon turned his eyes towards the tree line, trying to see where the arrows were coming from. It had flown in a fairly steep angle. Could it be that…?

That was when he spotted movement among the branches of a tree before another arrow was sent flying toward him. He ducked in the saddle and the arrow sailed over his head.

"Archers! Fire into the trees! They're in the trees!" He shouted, pointing. Those of his archers that could hear him and were in a position to follow his orders began sending arrows amongst the branches. Jon meanwhile spotted a crossbow lying on the ground, left there by one of his dead soldiers. Deciding that he was far too big and obvious a target on horseback Jon dismounted, letting his horse run away, and went to retrieve the weapon. As Jon picked up the crossbow he lowered his sword to the ground. Then he aimed it towards the tree where the previous two arrows had come from. As soon as he spotted movement Jon loosed a bolt, rewarded with a humanoid shape falling out of the tree. His joy over this victory was short lives, as just then he heard a woman's shout to his left, and turning his head he saw yet another enemy cavalryman charging toward him, weapon raised high. Having no time to reload or retrieve Longclaw, Jon instead chose to throw the crossbow at this new assailant. The improvised projectile barely grazed the Orlesian, but it did create enough of a distraction to make her miss her opportunity to attack, riding past Jon before stopping to turn her horse around for another attack. It was enough time for Jon to get his sword back into his hand. As the rider closed again, Jon spun, his sword striking in a wide arc. It struck the Orlesian in the chest, knocking her backwards off the saddle. Then, as she lay stunned on the ground Jon closed the distance with a few striding steps and opened her throat.

With more and more of the marching column reaching the battle site, the tide was beginning to turn against the Orlesians. Sensing this the Imperials tucked tail and ran, bringing the brief clash to an end. As they retreated Jon happened to catch a glimpse of an Orlesian with a sword that glowed like the sun itself. One of Jon's riders managed to close the distance only to be promptly decapitated by a swift slash from that sword. As she rode away the Orlesian turned her head, briefly locking eyes with the King before disappearing between the tree trunks. The other Orlesians also rode away, while the archers hiding in the trees had apparently vanished into thin air, the arrows and the dead the only sign they had ever been there at all.

With the fight having come to an end the surviving northerners went on to caring for their wounded and clearing up the remains of the battle. Wandering among the fallen Jon spotted the one he had shot with a crossbow, noting the slim figure and pointed ears of the individual. Other dead enemy archers had the same appearance.

"Elves… the enemy archers were elves." Jon realized with some surprise. He had heard of this people that lived in Thedas, but this was the first time he was seeing one. Only a handful of them had ever visited Westeros, and in the North they were even rarer than elsewhere. And he had certainly not expected to see any here, believing that the Grand Army comprised only of humans. Apparently that was only mostly true.

Moving on he next came across the horse of the Chevalier he had fought, apparently also killed in the heat of the fighting. "Horse armor. That stuff must cost a fortune." He muttered as he observed the animal.

"Not to mention raising the horse that can carry it." He heard a voice behind him. Turning he saw Edmond, having also arrived to the field of battle.

"There were also a few elves here, shooting at us form the trees. Can't say I was expecting that." Jon said, nodding at the Nevarran knight in greeting.

"Scouts probably." Edmond commented. "Back home I heard that a few such units comprised of elves had been established by the Orlesian military. And as I understand it elves do have a reputation of excelling in that battlefield role."

"And all these cavalry soldiers?" Jon asked, motioning around him.

"Responder battalions most likely. Orlesian armies frequently have a few units behind their scouts and in front of their main body of forces. Their job is to blunt surprise attacks so the main army has time to assemble. Also to disarm smaller ambush forces and exploit opportunities. What most likely happened was that the enemy scouts spotted our marching column and directed this responder battalion to attack it." Edmond said.

"So you're telling me that these were forward elements of a larger enemy force out there?" Jon asked.

Edmond nodded. "They're here. And now they know where we are as well."

"That's what I was afraid of." Jon said grimly. He turned to one of his soldiers. "Send out scouts of our own. Find out where the Orlesian main force is and how they got here. Until we know the army must maintain battle readiness. No setting up camp until we have a better understanding of the Imperial positions. And set up sentries as well so if the Orlesians try to attack us while we are looking for them we will have some advanced warning."

* * *

Dawn of the next morning was a few hours away when Ynessa and her units rode back into the Orlesian camp. She dismounted from her horse, and with her armor still caked in the grime and blood of the battle strode into the Marshal's command tent. Finding de Rozien and the Spymaster there. Briefly she wondered if they were up early or if they had been working through the night, before she went to stand before them at attention.

"_**Pardon me, My Lord. My unit just had a run in with King Jon's army. We engaged them as they were on the march, inflicting damage on then until their numbers became too great and we had to withdraw to preserve our combat effectiveness. Our forces sustained moderate losses during the battle. Unfortunately I have to report that Ser Louis Mignard is among those, slain by the King in the North I believe." **_She told them with a formal voice, although at the mention of Louis and Jon her tone briefly turned into what could best be described as being impressed.

"_**I see. How far away is their force?" **_The Marshal asked.

"_**Not far. Half a day's march, at the most." **_Ynessa replied.

"_**Very well. Thank you for your report. Stay put, I have new orders for you in a moment." **_The Marshal told her, then turned back to the spymaster. _**"Messere Gagnon, please continue your report." **_

The Spymaster nodded. _**"As I was saying, Lord Kronos reports that his delaying attacks have begun." **_He said. _**"I do hope that the loss of his son will not degrade his performance overmuch." **_He added dryly.

"_**He can be forgiven for being distressed over it. That dose is one of the most bitter ones a person can taste in life." **_The Marshal reminded.

"_**So I gather." **_The spymaster said with a shrug. _**"Although it is my understanding that Lord Kronos and his son did not always get along, which was the primary reason his son split to form his own House. They were even enemies at some small skirmishes between their forces before they eventually found a way to reconcile their differences."**_

"_**But as you said they eventually found a way to resolve their problems. And Lord Kronos did care for his son. We have conversed now and then, and he has frequently mentioned how despite their differences he had come to admire his son's progressive mindset, of how he was always the first to seize on new ideas and innovations that could improve his House. But I wouldn't expect you to understand the affections between father and son." **_Ynessa countered, not caring for the Spymaster's unfeeling attitude.

_**"****On the contrary, it is precisely because I understand how this could affect him that I am worried about his performance. The next stage of our plans is dependent of him doing his part in holding the Queen's army back. If grief over the loss of his son should compromise his ability to do so, or worse if he should decide to blame us for what happened…" **_Gagnon replied calmly.

_**"****There will be no grounds for him to do so." **_The Marshal interjected._** "Lord Blackstar had my advice and permission to depart from that engagement and save himself, but he turned the chance down. His choice was his own, and so the blame for his death cannot be cast at our feet. Furthermore the rest of their family is safely on their way to Orlais, away from any possible harm. The Emperor himself has guaranteed their safety and wellbeing. The same applies to the families of the other Upstart Houses, as is evident by the fact your spies are helping them sneak past the enemy lines and to us, to safety. That is proof that we have no intention of treating our allies callously. And in any case he is stuck with us now. His is the last Upstart House standing from those that sided with us. On his own he has no chance of holding his own against the Royalists. If our forces fail then his son has died for nothing and he will never get to avenge him. That knowledge will ensure that he will do his part vigorously in our support." **_

"_**One should hope so. It is important." **_Gagnon said.

"_**On that note, what are the news from our forces at Moat Cailin?" **_De Rozien asked, bringing the discussion back on track.

"_**Major General Robespierre has arrived and has begun to lay siege to the castle. His initial reports are promising, and he is now considering various options to take the castle quickly but intact, as you directed. The enemy garrison luckily isn't very large, a few hundred soldiers at most, so he anticipates he will be able to take the castle in reasonably short order, provided unforeseen complications do not arise. The Major General also reports that as his troops passed through the marshlands they came under attack from the Crannogmen, just as Lords Kronos predicted they would be. Robespierre's troops have sustained light casualties as a result, but nothing that would compromise their ability to carry out their orders. In response your specialists have been deployed to the region." **_Spymaster said.

"_**Good, good. Then they will be ready to engage the Queen's army when it arrives. In the meantime they can contain the problem of the Crannogmen to the best of their ability." **_Alexander said, pleased.

"_**My Lord, if I may ask… what are these specialist you speak of? You never told us." **_Ynessa inquired.

"_**Troops recruited from the Nahashin marshes. Experts in fighting in that kind of environment. Now that they have been deployed they have been given broad leeway to conduct their efforts, so they can use that expertise to the best possible effects. No interference from higher levels of command or from regular military units unless they request it." **_The Marshal explained.

"_**Wow. Sounds like the Queen's army will be in for quite a shock." **_Ynessa said.

Alexander chuckled. _**"Quite."**_

"_**Now then, there is likely a battle in a day or two. I want you in command of the left flank. Michel will be in command of the right. Find him and bring him the news. And get word to my other officers as well. I want them all here one hour from now so I can give them their orders." **_He told her then.

"_**Very good My Lord." **_She said, and turned to leave.

"_**And Ynessa?" **_The Marshal said in a voice that made her stop and turn back to him.

"_**I believe I recognized a familiar glint in your eye. There may be chance for you to battle the King in the upcoming battle. But both I and the Empire want him taken alive so he can be used to force his kingdom into peace. If you come up against him you are not to kill him unless he gives you no choice. And under no circumstances are you to chase after him unless I order you to. Do not compromise the army." **_He told her.

"_**But ser…" **_She tried to protest.

"_**That's an order Ynessa." **_Alexander said.

"_**Yes ser." **_Ynessa said reluctantly, then left.

Even when all of their troops were not yet ashore the Orlesian camp was very large, so it was taking Ynessa a lengthy while to find Michel and deliver him his orders. Along the way she stopped on a hill where the army's engineers were setting up several trebuchets to be used in the upcoming battle. Further afield other engineers were hammering staves to the ground for range testing later. The machines were the lighter stone throwers in their army, the ones that could simply be dragged into position. The larger siege engines would have required assembly, and that would take too long. And such machines would be simply too unwieldy in a field battle, unable to be moved to stay in range of shifting battlelines. All the machines were pointed further inland, to the west where the enemy would most likely be coming from. As such this hill had a commanding view of the coming battlefield.

Ynessa examined the field of battle, trying to picture where the Orlesian army would be, where the Northern army, how would their forces be arranged, where various units would move during the course of the battle. She tried to guess where the king would be. And she tried to picture her confrontation with him, how they would clash while battle raged all around them. What he would do in a fight based on what she had already seen of him in the last battle, how she would respond and he would respond to her attacks in turn. In her mind's eye she delivered the final blow in a hundred different ways.

She was still thinking this when Michel suddenly spoke up behind her, making her start: _**"Ynessa, there you are. Is it true? Did you have a run in with King's army?" **_He asked, sounding exited.

"_**Oh, Michel. I was looking for you. I have some orders for you from the Marshal." **_She said.

"_**I know. He already told me. You missed the meeting." **_He replied.

"_**What?" **_She asked, turning her head around, confused. Had she really been here for that long?

"_**Damn, I forgot. I was supposed to bring word to the other officers." **_She cursed, slamming her palm to her forehead.

"_**Well, fortunately you weren't the only one he sent. It's as if he knew something like this could happen." **_He said.

"_**It's entirely possible that he did. I was just thinking of the encounter with the King, which yes, I did have. Also about tomorrow's battle. I suppose I lost track of the time." **_She said.

"_**Sorry about Louis." **_Michel said with a sad shake of his head.

"_**It's alright. I didn't know him that well. He was a good fighter though. Good enough to keep me entertained during a practice fight. And you know how difficult that can be." **_She said.

"_**The Westerosi King slew him personally, I saw him do it. For him to do so… it was most impressive, very skillfully done. And I have had words with the locals, the prisoners we captured and soldiers from House Kronos. They have spoken of him. They call him the best swordsman who ever lived. He might well be the best in Westeros. I think in him I might finally find a worthy enemy to face, the first in Westeros. I had almost thought there would be none in this country who could give me a challenge. But perhaps he will. I hope it to be so." **_She added, eyes gleaming.

"_**The Marshal did give the order that the King was not to be slain. You're not going to listen to that order are you?" **_He said.

"_**By the Marshal's orders he may be slain if he allows no other choice. I'm afraid those exact unfortunate circumstances will arise if I make it to the King first." **_She said nonchalantly.

"_**Walk softly there. De Rozien will be very irate with you if you defy his orders. He has overlooked such behavior on your part before, but his patience has limits." **_Micheld warned.

"_**He won't know enough to angry. Battles are chaotic things. My version of events will seem plausible. It might even be true. I'll be alright, so long as you keep your silence." **_She replied.

"_**I'm not in the habit of betraying the confidence of a friend, don't worry. But you could help me understand why this matters to you so much. This isn't the first time this has happened. You find an opponent close to your skill level and you become focused on them to the exclusion of all else. It's almost like an obsession. Why is that?" **_He asked.

"…_**You could say it's my nature." **_She said after a pause. Then she removed her helmet, showing him her face. Her face was plain but attractive enough, her hair short and dirt brown in color. Her most notable feature was the tattoo depicting the constellation Draconis on her left cheek.

"_**You see this?" **_She asked, raising a hand to her tattoo. _**"My mother's people gave this to me, when I still lived among them. The people of my Hold, the Starwatchers, had certain beliefs peculiar even to other Avvar. Whereas most Avvar worship a pantheon of gods, our hold worshipped the Lady if the Skies to the Exclusion of all the other gods. It is their custom to mark the faces of children with the constellation they determine to be in prominence at the time of their birth. They believe that the Lady of the Skies in this way communicates the nature of the child and their destiny. And so they mark us, so all in the Hold know what we are meant to be." **_

"_**And Draconis was the one you were marked with?" **_He asked_**. **_

Ynessa nodded. _**"The mark of the Dragon as they called it. I know what you must be thinking. Why should such heathen superstitions matter in explaining what I am? Perhaps it is just a superstition. I certainly have never been able to make up my mind on that. And perhaps that doesn't even matter. What matters is that the Avvar half of my people believed. I bore the mark of the Dragon, and in their eyes that influenced my very nature. It shaped what they thought of me, and how they chose to raise me."**_

Michel nodded his understanding, listening intently to her story.

"_**You must understand what kind of creatures dragons are like. They are beings of vast, raw power, glory on wings as they say. Only the mightiest warriors can hope to stand against them. But they are also creatures prone to violence, death and devastation. A High Dragon on her rampage can lay low entire nations. The Lady of the Skies had told my Hold that this was my nature as well. The best chance for me was to learn to control the power in me, to channel it in a useful way, so I wouldn't become a force that consumed all before it before consuming myself also, like a fire that runs out of fuel. So from an early age I was selected to be trained as a warrior. During the course of that I discovered my talent for combat. I also discovered my taste for testing my limits. I began to take more and more risks with my training, seeking ever greater challenges for myself. With every triumph over adversity my craving to reach even further grew. When I was old enough I began to develop a habit of seeking out worthy enemies to test myself with. People or creatures, it didn't matter, so long as they could provide me with a challenge. When I faced them I felt as if I truly lived. Sadly for me every time I found something worth my while I ended up killing them, and my search had to begin anew. It's a habit I've continued to have, and today it's the King that has caught my interest." **_She explained.

"_**So that's how that works for you." **_Michel said.

"_**You know, you never have spoken much about the Avvar half of your heritage. For instance you have never told me how your parents met." **_He said then.

Ynessa gave a small laugh. _**"It's not as exiting or romantic as a lot of people seem to think. But maybe I should regale you with that story too. Might as well now that I've started right? It does have some bearing on how I came to be here, after all. My father was with a caravan transporting goods from Ferelden to Orlais, when they got caught in a blizzard. Most of the caravan froze to death, and the rest were found by warriors from my would be Hold, including my mother. It might have well ended up with the merchants dead and the Avvar taking the goods for themselves. But it turns out that even half frozen my father is an excellent speaker and managed to talk the Avvar down and make a deal with them. In exchange for their lives and shelter from the blizzard the merchants agreed to bring the Hold goods for free in the future. In the course of honoring that bargain over the years my mother took an interest in my father. A few dalliances later I was conceived. As I said, not very exiting or romantic. Merchant meets girl while trading, merchant has kid with said girl, the end. There are countless people with a similar tale, the only remarkable detail in my case being my parents being a more unusual pairing than is typical."**_

Michel could only nod.

"_**My parents never married because of too different traditions but they continued to meet each time my father visited the Hold, meaning he was able to keep up with my life. And fortunately for me he did love me as his daughter, just as my mother did. Anyway, the reason why this matters in my tale is because eventually I became interested in the world my father had come from, so I started visiting Orlais with him as he returned. And I became enamored with the civilized world, the world of the Orlesian half of my heritage, a world so much larger than I had previously known. I saw the wealth, the artistry and craftsmanship of the other people I shared blood with. And I saw your armies, and I realized that among them I would have endless opportunities for advancement, endless opportunities to test myself against able opponents, far more than my life in the Hold could have given me. The Chevaliers were the greatest fighters in Orlais, so that was what I wished to become. Fortunately under Emperor Gaspard the laws allowed it, and fortunately my father had the patronage of de Rozien, who agreed to sponsor me. But of course in the bargain I became distant from my Hold, spending less and less of my time there, less and less of that part of my life I kept with me." **_She said.

"_**And how did the people of your Hold react to that?" **_He asked.

"_**Not very well unfortunately. Many of them thought I abandoned them, in favor of a people who many of them viewed as an enemy. My mother was perhaps the only one of them who understood. She knew my nature better than anyone. She knew that my desire to hunt was a fire that I could not quench. I could only feed the hunger. She grieved for me, because she came to believe I was doomed to hunt until I came across something I could not defeat, and that would be the end of me. She belived that their efforts to teach me control had failed in the end. But she knew that I had to pursue my destiny. So she let me go, and we parted on good terms." **_She said.

"_**Your story does explain a great deal about you. For instance how Sunblade came to be yours. That is the kind of drive it takes to claim it." **_Michel said.

Ynessa smiled and tapped the sword sheathed on her belt. _**"I remember the fight that earned me it. It was a good one. And the previous owner got to live, unlike most who fight me."**_

"_**You could say that he was one of the few who fought you and lived to tell the tale." **_He said with a smile.

She laughed. _**"All too true, my friend, all too true. Sometimes I think the Sunblade makes things too easy for my liking, but then again the truly great opponents can compensate for its power. Hopefully Good King Jon will be able to do so as well." **_


	32. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31; Know thine enemy;**

**Characters of the chapter**

**Edmond Brahms, **Knight of Nevarra, Military advisor to the court of King Jon

**Jon Snow, **also known as Aegon Targaryen and Jon Stark, King of the North Kingdom of the Twin Kingdoms

"The Chevaliers tend to favor the wedge formation in battle." Edmond told Jon, placing a number of blue triangles on the table to mimic the Orlesian formation. There were other pieces on the table as well, blue for the Orlesian side, white for the northern units. Triangles represented cavalry units, squares infantry.

By now their scouts had found the positions of the Grand Army, also uncovering the fact that most of them had not made landfall yet. Currently the scouts estimated that the Orlesian force ashore at the moment was only slightly larger than the army of the North Kingdom. Even so more Orlesians were arriving every hour, strengthening their positions. Aware that he had a rapidly closing window of opportunity to engage the Imperials at roughly even numbers, Jon had begun preparations to engage the enemy in battle as soon as possible. The lords would be called together shortly to hear his battle plan, but first Jon wished to have a better grasp of the Imperial forces and how they operated. And so Edmond was now telling his King everything he knew about the Orlesian military forces, their preferred tactics their likely strategies for the upcoming battle, the Thedosian methods of warfare in general, all to familiarize Jon against the foe he would have to face now.

"Typical size of a wedge varies between company and battalion size formations, so between one hundred to five hundred riders per wedge depending on the tactical situation and the size of the battle. Considering that the upcoming battle will be a large one, with tens of thousands of troops participating on both sides, we can expect the Orlesians to opt for the larger battalion sized formations." Edmond detailed.

"The wedge is a very powerful formation, able to cleave an opposing unit in two, particularly in the case of heavy cavalry like the Chevaliers." He said, moving the triangles forward, showing them piercing a line on squares. "Since all Chevaliers have lances, the initial impact of their charge can be devastating, enough to shatter an opposing unit into a chaotic mess. After that they can switch to swords and finish what they started. Meanwhile they and their steeds are so well armored they can shrug off a lot of damage in return. Near as I can see they are better trained and better equipped than even your best units, so be careful with them. They are likely the deadliest troops of the Grand Army."

"So how should we go on about countering them?" Jon asked.

"Well the main weakness of the wedge is that it is a formation intended purely for attack. It needs to be mobile to be effective. Stop it from moving and it is vulnerable. It is also very slow to turn because the wings have a hard time keeping up with the tip as they're changing direction. So if you have lighter cavalry available you will have a good chance of outmaneuvering them. If its infantry facing them its best for them to just stand their ground and take the hit. Respond with deep ranks and spears. Let the charge bite deep, then get troops around the wings of their formation to pin them in place. Like an arrowhead they have a hard time retracting themselves if they go too far inside your lines, except the Chevaliers might actually wish to move back at some point. It's a costly approach for the infantry, but if they face Chevaliers it's their best chance to beat them back."

"Understood." Jon said his face one of intense concentration, trying to memorize everything Brahms was telling him.

"On a larger scale the Orlesians have a special trick they like to employ in field battles, allowed by good control of their horses. They call it the sling. It takes the form of a column, with a relatively narrow frontline, but very deep ranks. It is used when cavalry is deployed to the flanks of an army, as is very common in Orlesian strategies. Chevalier assault wedges form the front ranks and the inner edge, creating an L -shape within the formation. Meanwhile units of imperial army cavalry are deployed along the outer edge. The column moves forward, and the enemy naturally deploy their own flank units to intercept them to avoid the Orlesians getting around their main force. Chevaliers then charge and pin the enemy in place. Army cavalry meanwhile, faster and more maneuverable due to their lighter armor, separates from the main body of forces, like a stone ejected from a sling, hence the name. The army cavalry circles around to either envelop the enemy flank units or bypass them to hit the opposing army in the rear." Edmond said, once gain moving the pieces appropriately.

"Watch for that maneuver during the battle. Their way of deployment may go to great lengths to conceal the army cavalry presence within their formation. It will be easy for the Chevaliers to steal all the attention, but if the army cavalry is ignored it could create some very serious issues. If they try it during the battle you need to act quickly to avoid being outmaneuvered. I recommend that you leave yourself a reserve that can be moved to reinforce your flanks if something like this happens." He continued.

"If there are enough troops to spare. The reports say that the enemy forces already ashore outnumbers us by at least a few thousand, and those numbers will only increase as time goes by and more of their forces disembark. Keeping troops in reserve may not be possible under those circumstances." Jon said.

"What about the layout of the terrain. What do we know?" He asked then.

"Well, as your scouts reported the Imperials are setting trebuchets on a hill just off the shoreline. That's the ground they have chosen to hold." Edmond said. "It looks to be a very good position. The coastline is close, so our ability to maneuver around the enemy is limited. Very small adjustments of their line can keep their front facing ours. The hill affords them a good view of the surrounding area. The battlefield beyond the hill is an open plain of low grass, little to no cover anywhere. The weather has been dry and warm for weeks now, so traversing the fields should be easy for both sides, with no unexpected mud fields to slow down the troops. And with the enemy's back to the sea it adds a nice little incentive for them to stand and fight. There's no easy line of retreat for them. All in all a very nasty situation for our side."

Jon nodded grimly. It was a good position. The Orlesians could wait him out if they wished, await a critical numerical advantage that he would have no chance of defeating. He would have no choice but to attack them before that could happen. The ground they had chosen allowed for little else except a direct frontal assault into what was likely to be a prepared battlefield with ready defenders. His army might be the attacker in this battle, but the initiative, at the beginning of the battle at least, would belong to the Empire.

"We could try to launch a night assault on them. We might be able to catch them by surprise." Jon suggested, giving voice to the only other possibility he had in mind.

"That's unlikely to work." Edmond replied. "The enemy still has scouts out, and with their responder battalions they can slow us down long enough for the Orlesians to throw a party in our honor. It would be next to impossible to sneak on them with close to twenty thousand men, particularly as they are alert and waiting for us. It's unfortunate, but it looks like the only option the Imperials have allowed us is to face them head on."

"Then I suppose it's their game for the moment." Jon sighed.

Edmond nodded, then continued his explanation:

"The Orlesians will probably place themselves in front of their war machines, so they can keep them protected while profiting from their firepower. As I explained earlier the Imperials will likely place their cavalry on the flanks while having an infantry center. Now, I've read up on Westerosi military history, the various battles fought across your history. Your armies often like to have a frontline of heavy cavalry, with infantry behind them in a second line. It's not surprising that you choose to do this. Your heavy cavalry is often the best component of your army and has the greatest chance of breaking the enemy. In this case however it might turn out to be a very bad idea, because the first line of the Empire is likely to be made out of pikemen."

"Pikemen? I faced such during the Battle of the Bastards. Not an experience I look forward to repeating." Jon said, suppressing a shudder.

"Understandable. It's likely you will like these even less, Your Grace. The Emperor has made some new innovations around the pike, inspired by what he has read about Qunari field formations. These new units work in close cooperation with dedicated units of crossbowmen. Pikes protect the crossbows from enemy attack, while the crossbows support the pikes by firing on anything that comes into their range. Pike and shot formations they call them. Organized into regiments of about a thousand men, each regiment contains five hundred pikes, four hundred crossbows and one hundred skirmishers that protect the flanks and rear of the formation. These are very new, so we Nevarrans have had only a few run-ins with them. But what we have seen is… most impressive." Edmond said.

"That's the future, right there." He added, with no small amount of admiration in his voice.

"How so?" Jon asked.

"Because this is a very powerful formation, while at the same time being quick and easy to train. It can take years to train a proper swordsman. And the really good ones can take a lifetime to train. In a fight between sword wielding units the skill of individual fighters tends to play a huge role in who wins. With pikes it is less about individual skill and more about learning to perform a narrow selection of commands with mechanical precision and being brave enough to hold your ground. In battle the individual skill of pikemen is rendered irrelevant, so long as the unit as a whole is competent. I could train a decent unit of pikes in three months, a good one in six, and a great one in twelve." Edmond explained.

"If they are so good, why are these units so new?" Jon asked.

"One word. Mages. Those sparkle-fingers are the primary reason why there always has been and always will be a strong and proud tradition of skirmish fighting in Thedas. Pikes need to be in close order to be effective, and it turns out a mage casting fireballs can do quite a lot of damage to them then. So before pikes can be used the commander that has them has to ensure the opposing army doesn't contain significant numbers of spellcasters. But since there are unlikely to be mages here, the Emperor probably thinks Westeros makes an excellent test ground for units like this, to see what they are really capable of." Edmond said.

Now, each of their pikes is around six meters in length, longer than any spear in your army, which means they can hit your soldiers further away than they can hit them back. Packed together the imperials can present a quite a dense thicket of pikes, giving them a front facing almost impervious to any assault, whether made by cavalry or infantry. Horses in particular will not willingly charge into a wall of sharp points, and if they stop before the enemy pikemen our cavalry will be shot to pieces by the crossbows firing at point blank range. The best way to counter them would be with pike soldiers of our own, but sadly our army does not have any. The only other ways to defeat then will be to flank them or weaken them with archer fire until their ranks are thinned enough for an assault to break their lines. Even then they will be able to fight back, since every soldier in a pike and shot regiment carries a sword and at least one dagger, but in those circumstances we will have a chance of defeating them."

"So we will need to mirror the Orlesian deployment. Put cavalry in our flanks and foot soldiers in the center. Our footmen will pin the enemy pikes in the center, prevent them from turning, while our horsemen move to flank." Jon guessed. "Which on the other hand will put our cavalry right in the path of what you described as the deadliest soldiers in the enemy army. This ought to be interesting…"

"That's the plan we have to go with. And we will be in no small amount of rush too. Our foot soldiers will be able to hold their ground only for so long. We have to drive back the enemy cavalry and reach them before our center breaks. Even if we manage that it won't be quite the end of our efforts. As you already pointed out the enemy already outnumbers us to some degree, so I would guess the enemy will have a second reserve force, most likely infantry. It is also possible that they will have a force of archers behind either the first or second infantry line. It is difficult to estimate how many troops the enemy might have command of during the battle in the final analysis, but odds are good they will seek to bring as many as possible ashore to shift the odds in their favor." Edmond said.

"And mages, where will they be during the battle?" Jon asked, rightly concerned by this unique aspect of Thedosian armies.

"Mages are typically dispersed among other military assets where they can render support. Alternatively they may be assembled to a mage coven for large scale spells. In this situation I'd think there might be a concentration of the sparkle-fingers on the hilltop with the trebuchets, where they can provide additional ranged attack power. A mage can offer as much firepower as a light siege engine, except much more precise, much more versatile and much more mobile. If they were smart they brought the mages ashore with the first landings of troops, so I expect that every mage this force has with them will be on the field to face us." Edmond said.

"Trebuchets, archers, crossbows, mages. It's a lot of firepower they are in command of." Jon contemplated.

"Indeed, that's going to be another problem for us. Once we enter their range the enemy can use their trebuchets to force us to attack, and as we approach the incoming fire will only intensify. It will guarantee heavy losses for our side in the early part of the battle." Edmond said.

"All the more reason for us get close as fast as we can and end this battle quickly then." Jon said. "Some of the former soldiers of House Warblade have told me that the Orlesian commander is someone called Alexander de Rozien. Does that name mean anything to you?" He asked then.

"It does, although I can't claim to have ever met him in person. While he was still a mere general his army was stationed along the Nevarran-Orlesian border. During the Orlesian civil war he chose not to take sides in the fighting, instead sealing the border to prevent my kingdom from taking advantage of the Empire's disarray. After Gaspard secured his throne de Rozien swore fealty to him along with the other Orlesian commanders who had yet to do so. Even though de Rozien did not support him directly the Emperor was quick to recognize the value of his service in protecting the Empire from external threats and so promoted him to Marshal." Edmond said.

"Is he a good commander?" Jon asked.

"One of their best." Edmond confirmed. "His position on will likely be on the hill, where he can observe the battle and direct troops fire where it is most needed." He added.

"Not with his soldiers?" Jon asked, surprised.

Edmond shook his head. "It is my understanding that he is an older man, no longer in his prime. And his role is to command, not fight. It would be folly for him to engage in direct combat. He has middle ranks, captains and colonels and such who can handle that kind of leadership."

"This does bring me to something I've been meaning to talk to you about Your Grace. It is my understanding that you prefer to lead from the front, to fight with your men. I understand what you seek to gain with that. It's inspiring for the troops, and it gives them the benefits of your personal skill in combat, which I have heard is substantial. Even so, I think in this case you should consider other options." Edmond said.

Jon sighed. "I know there is risk. And I know that as King my survival is vital. But if my men are willing to risk their lives then I find I can do no less. What Kind of a King would I be if I was not willing to fight for them like they fight for me? I have been in battles before, I know how to survive them."

"With respect Your Grace, that was hardly the point I was trying to make." Edmond said.

"The reason you need to be in the back ranks is so that you can see developments on the battlefield and give orders to respond to them. Fighting for your life in the middle of a battle will deny you that option. It might not be a problem if our army's tactics consisted of charge and have at them. But in this case that is not going to be enough. We are dealing with a canny enemy that has an extensive command structure and signaling system that afford them great control over their troops. We need to be ready for anything on their part, and we won't be able to do that if our general is busy in a sword fight. The true weapon of any general is their army, and you need to be so placed that you can wield yours properly." He then explained.

Jon shook his head. "My people need to see me leading them, fighting at their side. If I'm not there our soldiers will be disheartened, and that could be disastrous."

Edmond nodded his understanding. It was not how he believed things should be done, but he could see the King's point. And at the end of the day Jon was the King, and this was his army. "Very well. If you insist on taking part in the fighting personally then it would be a good idea to appoint someone else to manage giving orders to you army in your stead."

"Maybe that could be you?" Jon said.

At first Edmond thought Jon was joking, so he laughed. Then he noticed the King's serious expression.

"Er, Your Grace, I don't think that is a good idea. This is your army, and these are your people. They follow you. I'm just some foreigner to them. Maybe one of your Lords…" He tried to say.

"There are none among them who have fought the Orlesians. None among them know them. You do." Jon cut in. "Time and again you have given me good information on their methods, and think you have good grasp of strategy and tactics. On this session of ours that has been more apparent than ever. I think you would do well in putting those skills to use in the upcoming battle. And you need not be concerned. This army will still be seen as mine. Putting you in charge of managing tactical decisions won't change that. Even with our armies it is common to divide command between several commanders. If I tell them that I will fight at their side on the front lines and that you will be given command of the overall army for the duration of the battle, they'll accept my judgement. A few who believe themselves more qualified might grumble about it, but they won't challenge their King's judgement."

"We all have different skills. Different strengths. Mine will be put to their best use leading my people against the enemy directly, by battling them with all my skill and giving my people the courage to win, as a King should do. And perhaps this is where your skills will do the most good, by being the guy with the plan. I can be the heart of this army for this battle, while you can be the head." Jon said, giving the Nevarran knight a reassuring nod.

"That is, if you accept the job?" He then asked.

Edmond saw the look in the King's eyes, and could understand the subtext behind his words. Jon was probably heard how he had frozen in the middle of combat during the fight against House Warblade. Now the King was seeking to place him in a position where he would do good and where whatever problems he had wouldn't become a problem a second time. Edmond still had a long way to go to prove himself, despite the work he had done so far. Could he really afford to turn Jon down with this?

"If you're sure that this is what you wish to do, then of course I will do my very best. I'm here to serve in whatever capacity you require of me." Edmond said.

"But if you really want my direction on this situation, call off this attack while we still have time." Edmond said.¨

For a time Jon was shocked in silence. "They don't outnumber us that badly yet. You would have me fall back, just as the enemy is at our very doorstep, at a time we still have a chance against them. Why?" He asked, still stunned.

"I know you planned to fight them before their numbers became more than you could handle. I don't mean to sell your people short, but I'm afraid the Imperials might have already reached that threshold. The strength of their army is far greater than simple numbers might indicate. And in the upcoming battle far too much could go wrong. If we fail to break the opposing cavalry, we're dead. If our infantry breaks against the pikes before the cavalry can reach them, we're dead. If we take too long in crossing the field to get to the enemy their ranged firepower will tear us apart and then we're dead. In short, unless we do everything to absolute perfection we will lose this fight." Edmond explained.

"Those odds are not going to get any better. If you think we can't beat them now, how do you expect us to hold when they are at full strength?" Jon countered.

"Not by ourselves I should think. We should retreat to a defensible location, and wait for Queen Daenerys's army to arrive. Once the strength of her army is added to ours, we can strike the Imperials with all our strength. Then the odds will be as good as we are able to make them and we might as well take our chances and see what happens." Edmond said.

Jon shook his head. "We cannot do that. Even if you are right about this we still can't. If we retreat to Winterfell the Imperials can move their own army south, take out White Harbor and Moat Cailin. Daenerys's army would be completely blocked off, and they could finish us off at their leisure. If we move to White Harbor or Moat Cailin, the Orlesians will have the path open to take Winterfell. With such a small garrison of defenders it would fall in short order. If we lose Winterfell we lose the North. Not to mention I have family there, which I won't leave in the hands of these Orlesian cunts."

"And our armies aren't like your Thedosian standing armies. Nine tenths of my army are made up of the forces of Lords who honored their oaths to fight with me because they believe I can lead them to victory. If they lose faith in the cause they'll lead those men home, because they don't want to die in a war they can't win and they'll figure that I won't be around to punish them for oathbreaking. My army could simply evaporate overnight if I don't manage them with care and ensure their confidence holds. If I retreat in the face of this enemy without at least trying to fight them it will send a very bad message to them. No. This has to happen. We fight with the army we have." He added.

Edmond sighed, realizing there was no changing the King's mind about this. "Understood Your Grace."

"However, that does not mean that I intend to ignore your warnings altogether." Jon reassured his military advisor. "We will try to play this carefully. We will hit them as hard as we can. If or luck holds we will push them back to the sea. At the very least we will damage their landed forces, hopefully making them more cautious to attack us and give Daenerys more time to bring her troops here. But the moment the tide turns against us we need to break off and fall back. Be on your guard, and if you see a dangerous situation forming don't hesitate to order the retreat. I need my army intact for battles later in this war."

"Alright. That sounds like a reasonable approach." Edmond said, moderately appeased. "Your Grace, since against the pikes it might not be possible to get close enough to use your sword, I think it might be wisest for you to be with your cavalry. Which flank would you like to take?"

Jon considered for a moment. "I believe I'll take the left flank. Lord Redforge can be on the right flank. His heavy cavalry is well equipped, and no doubt he will be eager to prove himself. That enthusiasm will be very useful. Meanwhile you can hold the center."

"I'll have the lords sent for, so we can fill them in on the plan. Meanwhile it would be a good idea for you to go over the situation one more time. If there is something that could help us or matters we have overlooked you can bring it up during the meeting." Jon said, then left.

Edmond nodded, gave a heavy sigh and turned his attention back to the table. He tried to do as the King had bid him, but found it difficult to concentrate. He had not been expecting to be put in command. He had commanded soldiers before, and he was an avid reader of books about strategy. He could handle this. Had that not been the case he would have protested more strongly at the King's decision. But now without warning he was in charge of a situation that to him seemed less than ideal. And he already knew that despite the King's assurances the Westerosi Lords would think he usurped a post that rightly belonged to them. They would not be happy with him. Less so if the battle went poorly.

Briefly Edmond wondered if Jon had put him in charge just to save face in the event the battle was lost. But, no. That was not the kind of man the King was. He was not petty, nor given over to playing such mind games. When the King made a mistake, he owned it. Edmond was just hoping the King had not made another mistake by underestimating the Orlesians. He had seemed so confident despite Edmond's warnings…

Then again, the King had been right. They could not retreat now. They had to at least try.

And maybe the King had a point in his confidence. Edmond only fully understood the Orlesian half of this equation. The Westerosi were still strangers to him, ones that he was still learning about. King Jon's people seemed brave and spirited enough, and he had heard of them overcoming seemingly insurmountable odds before. So perhaps it was Edmond that was underestimating them. And Edmond already knew that he was a cautious commander, always preferring the safer option to taking risks. That had served him well in the past, but against a superior enemy perhaps boldness was what was needed instead?

Yes, the more he thought about it the more convinced he became that Jon had the right of this after all…


	33. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32; Battle of the Flamewall; **

**Characters of the chapter**

**Alexander de Rozien, **Chevalier of Orlais, Marshal of the Grand Army of Orlais, supreme commander of the Orlesian invasion of Westeros

**Edmond Brahms, **Knight of Nevarra, Military advisor to the court of King Jon

**Ernest, **Captain in the Imperial army of Orlais

**Hannah of Starkhaven, **Ambassador on behalf of the College of Magi

**Jon Snow, **also known as Aegon Targaryen and Jon Stark, King of the North Kingdom of the Twin Kingdoms

**Michel de Chevin, **Chevalier of Orlais

**Ynessa des Montagnes, **Chevalier of Orlais, Duelling Champion to de Rozien, Chosen Sword of Orlais

_**Curved/Bold text in the chapter is in Orlesian**_

"_**LEFT, LEFT, LEFT-RIGHT-LEFT" **_Bellowed an Orlesian Captain named Ernest as he led his force of five hundred pikemen to their position on the infantry line the Orlesians were forming. Along with his shouts drummers were beating a cadence to help the troops maintain pace. Some distance to the right of them marched the crossbowmen of their regiment, and beyond them the skirmisher units and the command unit; the command unit carrying the regimental banner as well as signaling flags. Other units of infantry and cavalry were likewise in motion around them as the Orlesians made ready for battle, while behind them light and medium trebuchets were being made ready for firing.

Finally his battalion had reached its destination, his soldiers stopped moving forward, their feet continuing to tamp the ground as they waited for him to order them to hold position. **"**_**Pike battalion… Halt!" **_he shouted, and with a final crash of boots against the ground the shouts of marching cut off abruptly. _**"Left turn… turn!" **_he shouted his next command, and every soldier of his battalion pivoted on the spot, turning to face the enemy army on the far side of the field. **_"At ease!" _**He gave his final command, and the soldiers of his battalion assumed a relaxed pose. The pike battalion now to the left of his own and the crossbows behind were echoing the commands he had just given. _**"Battalion ready ser!" **_He shouted to the Colonel of his regiment. The said Colonel nodded and ordered the signaling flags and horns in his unit to signal that the regiment was in position and ready.

"_**Soldiers! Who are we?" **_Ernest shouted to his men.

"_**Orlesians!" **_They responded.

"_**And who are they!?" **_He shouted, pointing at the enemy.

"_**Dead men!" **_His soldiers shouted back.

"_**For whom do we fight!?"**_

"_**Emperor and Empire!"**_

"_**Where do we stand!?"**_

"_**Our land!" **_

"_**And how did we get it!?"**_

"_**Through victory!"**_

The Orlesian infantry were now arranged to three battle lines, the pike-crossbow regiments forming the first one, the pike battalion of each regiment arranged into four ranks with the crossbowmen right behind them. The second line was made out of three ranks of longbowmen in loose formation. The final reserve line of infantry contained standard sword and shield infantry. Behind even these were the war machines along with the Marshall's command position and the mages accompanying the army. Cavalry had deployed on either flank, organized into Sling formations on both sides.

On the opposite side of the battlefield the Westerosi had also finished forming up, mirroring the arrangement of the Orlesians: Infantry on the front, archers behind them and cavalry on the flanks. When the King showed up, riding to the front of his army, his people began cheering and calling his name, shouting their defiance at the invader.

"_**People should have the decency know when they're conquered." **_Ynessa said contemptuously, watching the display atop her horse.

"_**Would you, Ynessa? Would I?" **_The Marshall responded.

Marshall Rozien watched the spectacle of the Westerosi for a time, then turned to Hannah. _"**I think we have seen enough. Enchanter, if you would."**_

The Enchanter nodded and raised her arms, lightning dancing between her free hand and her staff. The sky was clear, but suddenly there it was, a single small storm cloud as black as sin, materializing as if from nothing. As soon as it formed lightning stabbed the Westerosi infantry line just behind the king. The effect was devastating: Where the lightning struck a plume of dirt and burning body parts rose to the air. Some soldiers were set ablaze, while others simply flopped dead to the ground like puppets with their strings cut. The cheers died out at once, a deathly silence now reigned among the Westerosi. Even the King looked alarmed, while his horse danced around nervously.

"_**You missed."**_ Ynessa commented.

_**"I did not. I hit precisely where I was aiming." **_The mage calmly said in retort._** "If the King dies, that army routs, regroups and returns under someone else's command. This way we get a chance to crush them. And I remember the Marshal's instructions. Besides, it seems a terribly unsportsmanlike ****thing to do, snuffing out the enemy ****commander without giving them a chance to face us in honest battle**_." She then explained.

"_**Fair enough. I suppose I would have been disappointed had you caused the entire enemy army to flee."** _Ynessa allowed. In her mind she was also quite pleased the mage had decided not to kill the King. That would truly have been disheartening after such a long search. "_**Although it seems also that some of the enemy need only so much encouragement**_." She continued, pointing at the enemy force. In their rear ranks, individual figures were breaking off the main force and fleeing.

**"Look at them run away like rats." **She mocked. "**Yes, run away little rodents. The lion of Orlais descends upon you."**

"**_To be fair, the enemy is unfamiliar with magic. In their eyes we just hit them with the wrath of the Maker Himself. Can you truly blame that there are those who run?_**" Michel joined the conversation.

"_**No. One cannot."**_ Ynessa decided. "_**Every army has its cowards."**_

"_**And the rest of us have to choose between victory or death. I for one choose victory. Let our cowards not be too much of a hindrance to this intent." **_Rozien said. "**_Ynessa, Michel, to your posts_."** He then commanded.

Both Chevaliers nodded left at once, Michelle going to the right and Ynessa to the left. Michelle got his share of cheers and shouts of encouragement as he rode past the troops, but it was Ynessa who garnered most of the attention. _**"Sunblade, Sunblade, Sunblade!"**_ The Orlesian soldiers chanted as she rode on, the plumes of her helmet fluttering in the wind. In response to the shouts she drew her sword, a huge cheer rising from the Orlesian ranks when they saw its golden light shining.

"_**Chevaliers, wedge formations!" **_Ynessa shouted to the Chevaliers in her command when she reached them. She took her place at the head of one of the wedges, sheathing her sword once more as her squire handed her lance to her.

* * *

Back at the hill, the Marshal observed that his cavalry had finished forming up. Now was the time to begin he decided. _**"Artillery companies, commence firing!" **_he bellowed a command. To his right a soldier holding a signaling flag swung the flag down, and the trebuchet behind him sent a cloud of rocks the size of a man's head through the air to rain down on the Westerosi. The flag to the right of the first one swung down and another trebuchet fired. One by one the trebuchets fired in this fashion, until all of them had fired their payload. By the time the last one had fired, the first one had almost finished reloading, and soon sent another cloud of rocks into the air. De Rozien observed the result of the bombardment, noting with satisfaction that reasonably many rocks of this continuous hail of stone were hitting their marks.

"_**Good shooting! Keep at it!"**_ He congratulated the artillery crews.

* * *

In response to the bombardment the Westerosi began their advance, urged on by their King, who had taken position with the cavalry on the left side of their line. On the far side of the battlefield, Ynessa cursed in her mind as she realized that the King was on the far side of the battlefield. Even with all her skill, there would be no way for her to hack through the entire North Kingdom army to engage the King. She would have think of some other solution. But first things first. There was a battle that still needed to be won here…

* * *

"_**Pike regiment, prepare to repel infantry!" **_Shouted the Colonel of Ernest's unit.

"_**Pike battalion, stand to! Deploy… pikes!" **_Ernest shouted in response, and the pikes in his command leveled, pointing a forest of spear points toward the foe.

"_**Crossbow battalion**_, _**half step right… step!" **_The captain of the crossbow battalion shouted at the same time. The crossbow unit was now slightly offset from the pike unit, the heads of the crossbowmen poking out between the lines of pikemen.

When the Westerosi came to range they sent a volley of arrows into the ranks of the Orlesians, killing several of his soldiers.

"_**Hold your positions, hold! Stand together, courage now!" **_He shouted as the arrows continued to rain on his soldiers. Soldiers from the rear ranks stepped forward to take the places of their fallen comrades. Behind them the Orlesian longbowmen fired back with a volley of their own.

"_**Crossbows, prepare to fire!" **_Bellowed the captain of the crossbows, and the first line of crossbowmen pointed their weapons toward the foe. _**"First rank… fire!" **_The captain shouted next, and the first line sent a cloud of bolts flying in a low arch over the heads of the pikemen to fall amongst the Westerosi, felling several. Then the first line knelt and began reloading their weapons. _**"Second rank, fire! Third, fire! Fourth, fire!" **_The captain continued to shout, each command sending a fresh wave of bolts to the air, and more of the enemy died. Some moments after the first rank of crossbowmen had finished reloading and a new series of volleys began, continuing with mechanical presicion. Mages of the army opened fire as well, tearing at the enemy force with a storm of arcane powers, by the command of the Marshal concentrating their efforts against the enemy cavalry.

* * *

Ynessa saw the Marshal's command unit give the signal for the cavalry to advance. _**"Chevaliers, CHAARGE!" **_She shouted, and they set off, galloping at full speed towards the opposing horsemen, the army cavalry following them out.

* * *

Jon flinched as a blast of fire took out six riders just behind him. All around similar happenings were unfolding, savage magical attacks tearing holes in his army, each spell killing many, all the while arrows and rocks were falling like rain. Brahms had been right, this kind of firepower could not be weathered for long. They had to close in and engage the enemy while their forces were still sufficiently intact to fight. He just hoped that they had the strength to turn the tide in close combat with the enemy cavalry. Everything depended on it.

"If only Rhaegal was here for me to ride. There I would have a potent weapon to counter the magics they fling at us." He thought as he rode on.

He saw the enemy cavalry force ahead beginning to split in two, the lighter cavalry spreading out further out to his left, while the chevaliers continued to head straight at them.

"Now!" Jon shouted, and the rear ranks of his cavalry changed course, heading after the Imperial army cavalry. It was a risky maneuver, as it spread his forces quite thin, but it was the only way to keep the enemy from outflanking them.

Just then the two forces of cavalry met, and the battle began in earnest for him. He cut off the tip of the first lance that tried to strike at him, then sliced open the throat of the chevalier carrying it as they passed, his Valyrian steel blade easily biting through the man's plate armor and the shield he wore. His horse kept riding on, the dead rider dangling limply from the saddle. Jon's sword clanged once against that of another enemy as the rode past each other before he lost sight of the said enemy. All around him both groups were breaking up, the situation deteriorating into a series of skirmishes. The next enemy rode to him and they exchanged a series of blows before Jon managed to behead him. As soon as his enemy was dead he rode off in search of his next opponent.

* * *

On the opposite side of the battle Ynessa's unit also made contact with the enemy. Seeing as the rider she had chosen as her target was heavily armored, she drove her lance into the horse instead. Half the length of the lance sunk into the horse's flesh, the weapon breaking apart in a tremendous crack. The horse tumbled over hard, while the rider went flying overhead. She snapped her head back as a spear reached for her throat, ripping away her gorget. She replaced her broken lance with her sword, slashing at the next enemy that came near her. Despite the awkwardness of facing a left handed fighter, her opponent raised his sword in time to block her blow, only for the Sunblade to cut it's way straight through the opposing metal, tracing a huge gash on the body of the man holding it. She quickly turned her horse around, slashing open the throat of a dismounted enemy knight. Momentarily free of enemies, she raised her blade high, her horse rearing under her. **"For Orlais! Emperor and Empire!" **She roared.

* * *

Ernest grunted as the enemy infantry made contact with their line, the tip of his pike burying itself in the belly of the one nearest to him. About half of the initial wave of enemies charging at them made it past the first rank of pike tips, but only a few made it past the second, and none past the third. The fourth line remained completely untouched for the time being. The Westerosi that were still alive continued to try to get past their defenses, slashing at the pike tips or trying to take hold of the shafts. One man even climbed over the shoulders of his fellows and tried to jump to the midst of the Orlesians, but pikes rose to meet him, and he was impaled. He hung there like a grotesque banner until they managed to shake him loose. Enemy archers continued to send arrows into the rear ranks of the pikemen, felling some of them. With the forest of pikes thinned somewhat by arrows, a few enemy fighters managed to fight their way through the pikes to cut down a few of his soldiers before being killed in turn. Despite this the Orlesian continued to hold on, tightening their lines anew and holding their ground. The crossbowmen of the Orlesian regiment continued to return fire in ordered volleys, each rank firing in turn, each volley sending more Westerosi to their graves in the rear ranks.

_**"****Pikemen, advance by step!" **_Ernest bellowed over the din of the battle, seeing an opportunity in the thinning of the enemy line achieved by the crossbows. _**"Step!" **_He shouted, each soldier responding with a step forward and an accompanying cadenced shout. The suddenly forward moving pike tips pierced any man among the enemy too slow to move back. **"Step, step, step!" **He shouted in rhythm, each shout met with a step forward and shout in response, the pikes driving deeper into the enemy line. _**"Hold position!" **_He shouted then to keep his battalion from advancing too far out of line in comparison to the other battalions. His soldiers halted their advance and resumed holding the line.

* * *

Back on the hill Marshal Alexander observed that the enemy had now fully committed themselves to the battle. They had done as he had known they would. He turned to the enchanter. _**"It is time." **_Alexander said to her. Hannah nodded and walked to where a large number of her fellow mages were standing. Together they raised their hands and began the casting. Flame glowed at the palms of each, the air rippling between them, the mages muttering something in a language Alexander did not recognize. Even as this was happening he saw that the air was also beginning to ripple at the center of the Westerosi infantry line. The enemy troops were taking note as well, hesitating in their assault, some of them trying to move away from the area of rapidly climbing temperature. Then the flames exploded in their midst, incinerating many northmen, rapidly moving from one end of the Westerosi line to the other, becoming a blazing wall of flame that cut the northern infantry force in half. Those on the far side of the flames retreated away, while the rest found themselves trapped.

When the flames appeared, the Orlesian pikemen were briefly frightened by the display of magic before rallying, despite the fact that they had been told to expect the attack. But they regained their composure soon enough. _**"Battalion, advance by step! Push them into the fire!" **_Ernest shouted, and his soldiers began to advance to his commands as before, beginningto crush the foe between a wall of sharp steel on one side and a wall of flame on the other. Unable to retreat away from the pikes, the Westerosi began to sustain heavy casualties. Those that could streamed away from the sides, but there were far too many for all of them to escape in this way. In a matter of moments the trapped men began to surrender in their thousands rather than burn.

* * *

"Maker's breath." Edmond cursed as he saw the situation unfold. In one move the Orlesians had seized control of the battle. Gone were the chances of inflicting a severe wound on the enemy before retreating, their wall of fire had robbed them of that possibility. The spell had caught him completely unawares; it had never occurred to him that magic could be applied in such a way. The Westerosi center was now gone, with their infantry dead, fleeing or surrendering. With the Orlesian infantry now unimpeded, if the royalist cavalry stayed put they would be surrounded and overwhelmed.

"Signal full retreat. This battle is lost." He told a northman standing nearby. Reluctantly the northman raised a horn to his lips. Edmond knew that now it was important to save as much as could be saved so that when they next did battle they would have at least something of a fighting chance.

Upon hearing the signal the Westerosi cavalry disengaged began to retreat, with the imperial riders pursuing at once. Edmond ordered the archers to fire at the pursuers, causing enough of a ruckus that most of the royalist cavalry were able to get a clean getaway, with only a few of them falling at the enemy hands. Then he and the archers were forced to retreat as well to avoid being run down by the enemy horsemen. With the royalist cavalry retreating the battle was effectively over, with the whole northern army withdrawing from battle. Arrows and boulders continued to rain down ceaselessly, slaying Westerosi left right and center. Meanwhile the enemy cavalry were slaying anyone they caught who did not surrender immediately.

* * *

Ynessa continued to gallop forward, cutting down a fleeing man as she rode. Her shield had cracked and shattered during the battle, leading her to discard it, and her armor and that armor of her horse had sustained a few dents, but other than that she was fine, feeling exhilarated by the battle. She spotted the Westerosi king retreating with a dozen others of his people, perhaps four hundred meters separating them. Close enough to observe, too far to chase down when both of them were on horseback. So instead she stopped and looked at this king, half dozen of her Chevaliers gathering at her flanks. As if sensing her, the king and his entourage also stopped and turned to look upon her, their eyes meeting across the battlefield. She removed her helm and, a smile tugging the corner of her mouth, she raised the Sunblade high. Having been drenched in blood, the light on the blade of the sword had changed color, assuming an angry red hue. Then she pointed the sword straight at the King. The King upon seeing this grabbed a bow and arrow from an archer just near him, aimed quickly from horseback and loosed an arrow into the air. Unfazed, Ynessa calmly watched the arrow sail toward her. The arrow embedded itself on the ground before the feet of her horse, causing it to neigh nervously and take a step back. Having fired his arrow, the King turned around and left with his countrymen.

_**"****What was that about?" **_One of her Chevaliers asked her.

_**"****I challenged him. I showed him the sword that had drunk the blood of his people and I told him that the same sword would be coming for him as well." **_Ynessa explained.

_**"****Oh. Then it seems he accepted your challenge my lady." **_The Chevalier said.

_**"****Indeed, and I am glad of it."**_ She said, smiling.

She donned her helmet once more. _**"Rally my units, call up as many riders as you can. We are going to pursue the King. If we hurry we may yet catch him." **_She told the Chevalier.

"_**Pursue him? But… the Marshal… our orders…" **_The Chevalier tried to protest. To chase after the enemy meant to leave the sight of the main army, which had been expressly forbidden by de Rozien.

"_**Your orders are the ones I just gave you. Carry them out." **_She said slowly, with a tone that brooked no argument.

The Chevalier hesitated only a brief while longer. _**"Yes Ser."**_ He said finally and rode off to carry out her command, as did the rest of the Chevaliers around her. Meanwhile her eyes were fixed into the distance, in the direction the King had fled to.

"You won't escape me, King in the North." She told herself. "We WILL cross blades in combat. It will be glorious for both of us."


	34. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33; Retreat!; **

**Characters of the chapter **

**Davos Seaworth **Knight of Westeros, Advisor to King Jon

**Edmond Brahms, **Knight of Nevarra

**Jon Snow, **also known as Aegon Targaryen and Jon Stark, King of the North Kingdom of the Twin Kingdoms

**Kieran, **Agent of the Inquisition, mage advisor to the court of King Jon

**Sansa Stark, **Lady of Winterfell and the Eyrie**, **Wardeness of the North

"Move it! Keep going!" Jon bellowed, standing at the side of a road winding through dense woods as northern soldiers were walking or running past him. Since the defeat at the battle against the Orlesian forces he had been leading a force of survivors on the retreat, perhaps two thousand strong. There were other groups of survivors out there, but his group had lost contact with them. The last messages from some of these other groups had reported Orlesian pursuit. Those news did make him worry, but for now he had to concentrate on the dire straits of the soldiers directly under his charge.

He had ordered most of his available cavalry to ride on to Winterfell to ensure their survival, so his available forces consisted mostly of infantry. He had refused to leave his infantry behind to be slaughtered, so he had stayed with them, despite protests from a few of the lords he had had with his group who didn't want him to put himself at risk. Later on his horse had died, succumbing to exhaustion and wounds that Jon had not noticed in his haste.

His forces were a motley group belonging to several different houses, only a few to his own. All of them were exhausted, dirty and hungry. A splinter force of the Orlesian army was hot on their heels, so they had had no chance to stop to rest since the battle, and they were all tiring out. Many wounded and those too exhausted to go on had had to be left on the wayside. With the blood of the Orlesians up from their victory, Jon doubted that any of those they had abandoned would be seen alive again.

"My King! Your Grace, this isn't going to work." Edmond said, huffing and puffing as he walked to him. "We've been running for day and a night nonstop, our boys are exhausted. We don't have food, we have almost no water and we don't even have bandages to help the wounded."

Jon looked around himself, seeing the tired faces of his men, and knew the truth of Edmond's words. If they kept running, tiredness would claim each of them one by one. After that the Orlesian blades would put an end to them.

"Fuck this." He muttered. "Call for a halt!" He yelled aloud, and the column of retreating men halted, many of them slumping to the ground, grateful that they had at last been allowed to stop.

"What are you doing?" Edmond asked, confused.

"You are right. We can't outrun these guys, so I'm done trying to. These Orlesian fucks won't expect us to turn and fight them, and they are bound to be as tired as we are. That might give us a chance." Jon said.

"Still might not be enough." Edmond commented.

"Not if we try to take them head on. But if we can manage to surprise them…" Jon said.

"You there!" He said to one of the few cavalrymen they had with them. "Gather half dozen riders and do a scouting mission to our rear. Find out where the Orlesians are and how many they number."

As the rider left with half dozen of his fellows Jon turned back to his military advisor. "Ser Brahms, take half our men and bring them to this side of the road. I'll be on the other side with the rest. We're going to ambush the Orlesians so make damn sure none of our side is seen. We will start the fight with archers, so both groups have to have them. When the Orlesians come, wait for my group to fire on them. When they finish forming up to attack us, you fire on them from behind, throwing them into disarray. Then we charge into their midst and take our chances."

"And tell our lads to leave unneeded things on the road! It'll look like we had to abandon stuff in our hurry. Maybe it'll help convince the Orlesians that we are still running." Jon shouted after him before moving on to organize his half of the troops. After they were finally in position a long while of tense waiting followed. Then Jon noticed the scouts he had sent out. In the middle of the road the scouts halted and looked around themselves, confused.

"Good. It seems that we are reasonably well hidden." He thought as he stood up and went to address the cavalryman.

"So?" He asked.

"The Orlesians are right behind us, they'll be here in a few minutes." The soldier said.

"Did they spot you?" Jon asked.

"No, I don't think so." The soldier said, shaking his head.

"How many are there?" Jon asked next.

"A thousand or so." The soldier said.

"So less than us?" Jon said, mildly surprised.

"Less, yeah, but every one of them is on horseback. Chevaliers by the look of their kit. They seemed to be in a rush. Probably thinking to run down soldiers who won't fight back." The soldier said.

"Propably. Their mistake." Jon said. "Very good. You and the rest of the cavalry are to ride on, get yourself out of sight. Ride far enough away that the Orlesians won't see you when they come here." He told the soldier then.

"You don't want us in the fight?" The soldier asked.

"There aren't enough of you to make a difference, and horses can't hide. You have done your part, well take it from here. Get going." Jon said.

The soldier nodded and rode on, his fellows on his heels. Jon meanwhile returned to his men.

"Your weapon, give it to me, I have need of it." He told one of the archers.

"Wait for me to attack. Relay order down the line." He whispered an order as the archer handed him his bow and some arrows.

"Wait for the King to attack. Relay order down the line." The archer told the man next to him.

And then they waited.

They heard them before they saw them, the thunder of hooves on the packed dirt of the road. Then the Imperials came into view, riding along the road in a long column of three riders abreast, an Orlesian banner at the head of the column.

Jon waited until the majority of the column was between his forces. Thankfully discipline held among his troops and no one fired prematurely. Then he picked one of the enemy cavalrymen as his target, aimed quickly and fired his arrow. The enemy soldier fell from his saddle, an arrow puncturing his throat. An alarm was sounded among the Orlesian ranks and their column fragmented into several confused clusters as some heard the shout and stopped, while others rode on.

"Loose, loose, loose!" Jon shouted, handing his bow back to the archer he had taken it from. A flurry of arrows struck the Orlesian ranks, killing many soldiers and horses. The Imperials were confused for a good lengthy while, but eventually they managed to form themselves into something resembling battle formations. Swords left their sheaths as the Orlesians prepared to charge…

…and then arrows began to rain on them from behind, puncturing their backs. This new attack left the Imperials completely disordered, the soldiers uncertain which direction to focus on. It was all the distraction that Jon needed.

He drew his sword. "For the kingdoms, attack! Winter comes for them!" He shouted and charged. Shouting their war cries the northmen swooped down on the Orlesian column from both sides. Sandwiched between two forces, the imperials were unable to charge, leaving them at a disadvantage. The Orlesians nonetheless fought on as best as they were able, stabbing and slashing at any enemy that came near them, killing some. But the tide of battle was against the Imperials, and one by one they were getting dragged down and killed by the attacking northmen.

Jon grabbed a cavalryman by his belt, pulling him to the ground, then promptly ran him through with his sword. Then, seeing movement in the corner of his eye, he turned quickly and came face to face with a dismounted Orlesian soldier. They exchanged a few blows until he managed to cut her down as well. Then he had to hastily parry a blow from an Orlesian galloping past. Jon turned his parry into an attack, slicing open the horse's flank. Screaming, the horse fell, trapping its rider under it. Jon approached the trapped rider, his sword at the ready. Just before Jon opened his throat the soldier tried to plead with him in his language, but he did not care. Standing back up, he spotted a man quite different from the others on the battlefield; a man in ornate robes carrying a wooden staff. From the tip of that staff a large dark stone was ejected, impacting amidst a cluster of northmen, where it exploded violently, killing the lot of them.

"A mage." Jon concluded in startled realization. Brandishing Longclaw he charged, knowing that this threat needed to be extinguished with haste. Just as Jon was about to land a blow the mage spotted him and raised an arm, coated from fingers to shoulder in interlocking pieces of rock. Metal struck stone, chips of rock flying from the point of impact, making Jon grunt surprise. Twice more he had time to strike at the mage, but both times more stone grew out of nowhere, blocking his attack. Then a blast of energy struck him on his chest, knocking him off his feet and driving the air out of his lungs.

As Jon lay there, coughing and gasping for breath, the mage's stone armor crumbled to dust, no longer needed. The mage began to motion with this free hand neat the tip of his staff, where a new lump of rock began to grow. Just as he was about to launch the said rock the mage suddenly stopped, a knife puncturing his throat. Edmond walked to the mage, wrapping his fingers around the hilt and yanking the blade out. Like a puppet with its strings cut the mage collapsed, a gush of red pouring from the hole in his throat, making Edmond retreat several steps backward at the sight of the blood.

"Your Grace? Are you alright?" He asked as he helped him up.

"Yeah, fine. Nice throw." Jon said.

"Thanks." Edmond said, breathless.

Around them the battle was coming to a close as the Orlesians who had not fled were getting finished off. A few of the enemy tried to surrender, but the northmen were in no mood to show mercy to people who had been intending to ride them down and slaughter them like animals.

It was then that Jon spotted a lone Orlesian rider on the road, some distance from the edge of the battlefield. He noticed the sword in her hand, shining with golden light, and in that moment he recognized her. The two locked eyes, staring each other with hostility across the battlefield. She bowed her head, apparently conceding that she had lost this round. Then she turned her horse around and galloped away with haste.

"We won… now what?" Edmond asked, surveying the battlefield.

"Search the dead. We are going to need supplies. Then we ought to leave this place as soon as we are able. The Orlesians might send another force here soon. We need to get to Winterfell before that. There we can rest, treat our wounded and plan our next step." Jon said.

Edmond nodded and began to shout orders at the men. Jon could not miss how pale the Nevarran had seemed when they conversed. At least he had fought reasonably well…

Later on, as his soldiers were looting the dead for things they needed, Jon happened upon the Orlesian banner, lying trampled in the dirt. He picked it up in and tore it up in his hands before dropping it and walking away.

* * *

"Open the gate!" Bellowed a guard at Winterfell. The gates swung open, and a stream of northmen poured in. A week had now passed after Jon had ambushed the Orlesian forces. Fortunately the enemy had not pursued them further after that incident. He had travelled as fast as he could to make sure he got to Winterfell before the armies of the Empire, only allowing his troops enough rest to avoid killing them from exhaustion. They were all tired and dirty from travelling in less than ideal conditions, but now they were finally here. For a time at least they would be safe.

"Jon!" Sansa shouted, running across the yard, and the two embraced.

"Thank goodness you're alive. Some of the reports we heard insisted you had been killed. Even your riders that made it here before you didn't know any better. I didn't know what to believe." She said.

"So few…" She said, surveying the yard and the soldiers that had arrived here. There were far fewer of them here than had left for war. "Where are the rest?"

"Dead. Captured. Scattered. It's hard to say for certain. There are perhaps two thousand of us here. I have no idea where the rest of them might be." Jon said quietly. Then his expression became confused. He had expected his son to be here to greet him. "Where's Robb? Where's my boy?" He demanded, concern in his voice.

"Daenerys came by, took him back to King's Landing, some time ago. He's safe." Sansa explained quickly.

"She… did?" He said, looking even more surprised than moments before. "But why didn't you tell me?"

"It didn't seem important at the time, and everything happened so fast I wasn't sure what to think of it myself. It seemed like the kind of news that can wait until you are home. I'm sorry if I've upset you."

"No, I think I understand. Father used to say that good news can wait, but bad news will refuse to leave." He closed his eyes and breathed. "At least he's out of harm's way. Winterfell isn't safe, not with the Orlesian army bearing down on us. And with what you told me about the Orlesians assassins attacking Winterfell I can see why she would want to bring him to King's Landing. Most of the spies Tyrion has are from there, and there are more guards there, including her Queensguard."

"That was more or less what she told me. But Jon, it wasn't just here." She said.

"What?" What do you mean?" He asked.

"A lot has happened while you were gone. I was meaning to write to you about it, but between rebuilding from the attack and the news about what happened to your army, things have simply been so hectic… but now that you're home again I can tell you in person. But not here. We should go talk somewhere private, and I'll explain everything, and then we have to decide what to do, together."

Sansa led him to his rooms, where she began to explain the full extent of the events that had taken place in Jon's absence:

"It wasn't just us that were hit like this. I checked, and it seems these attacks happened all over Westeros. Holdfasts assaulted, lords and ladies killed, all sorts of disruption, with help from the Upstart Houses that betrayed us. Robin Arryn is dead, killed at the Eyrie. The guards at the Eyrie managed to repel the attackers, but the Orlesians still hold some of the waycastles to get down from the mountain. The Bloody gate was seized, and now there is a force of some two hundred riders belonging to house Blackstar rampaging all over the Vale. It may be some time before the knights of the Vale can join the fight."

"Riverrun… we have lost contact with the castle. Uncle Edmure might be dead as well. Maybe his family also." She said, bowing her head.

"Gods…" Jon said, sitting down on a nearby chair, covering his mouth with his hand, utterly stunned. "Why?" He asked.

"That seems obvious. They wanted us paralyzed, so Westeros would be helpless to respond when their army comes. Every noble they kill is one more that won't be rallying our people to fight. Every keep seized is one we will have to take back from them, one more place we can't assemble at. Every act of harassment one more distraction to keep us form dealing with the Orlesian main force. We can thank the gods they were only partially successful. And that you had already formed your army and left before the attacks started." She said.

"Indeed. If not for that we might have even greater problems today. But now we must prepare for what comes next." Edmond said as he entered the room, with Davos following him. "I suggest…"

"I don't think you are in any position to advise me. Not until you give me some damned answers." Jon cut the Nevarran knight off, standing up, a glint of anger flashing in his eyes. "What in the hells happened out there during the battle? Why didn't you warn me that they could do a magical attack that could sunder my whole army?" He demanded.

"I didn't know! I had no idea they could use magic on that scale. I don't think anyone has seen anything remotely like this since Andraste's day." Edmond retorted.

"I gave you command of my army, thinking that you could help me win that fight. Instead…!" He accused.

"I did everything I possibly could… Your Grace! And when it became obvious that we would not win I did what had to be done and ordered the retreat. To save as much of our army as I was able." Edmond replied, getting angry himself.

"Oh is that the reason you did it? Because I suspect a rather different motivation. I have seen you hesitate in battle, don't think that I have not. And you didn't want us to battle the Orlesians at all. I'm starting to wonder if you just don't have the courage for this war." Jon said, with anger rather uncharacteristic of him.

The Nevarran knight bristled at the kings words. "I'll let no man call me a craven, not even a king! I have been fighting the Orlesians almost all my life. And if you want to start casting blame, maybe you should start with yourself. I warned you not to engage a force that large. When you ignored that advice I did what I could in a situation that was already bad."

"Now you listen here Nevarran…" Jon began to say, fully enraged.

"Enough! Both of you! This doesn't help anything!" Sansa interrupted, loud enough to shut both men up.

"Listen to yourselves. This is exactly what the Orlesians want us to do. The want us distracted and at each other's throats. If were bickering amongst ourselves were not fighting them." She scolded them both as they were looking at the ground, embarrassed, realizing that they had let their emotions over their shocking defeat get the better of them.

"What happened, happened. It's already done. I believe that you both did everything you could to win. It wasn't enough, but that's in the past. It doesn't matter now. What does matter is what we do next." She said.

"…You're right. That's what's important. The rest can wait." Jon admitted quietly, sitting down again. "But what can we do? We'll have the whole Grand Army bearing down on us in no time, and our own forces are dead and gone. How am I supposed to do with two thousand men what I could not do with twenty thousand? There's no way we can win, not against that many."

"With respect Your Grace… I think we need to redefine our conditions of victory." Edmond said.

"Explain." Jon said, frowning.

"We can't win against the Orlesians on our own, but we can help others do so. Winterfell is a very defensible location, well suited for our needs. I suggest we entrench ourselves here as best we are able in the time we have. If they want this castle, they'll have to dig us out inch by bloody inch, and every inch gained they will pay for in lives lost." Edmond said.

"That won't work." Jon said, shaking his head. "The Imperial army bristles with siege weapons. They'd reduce Winterfell to rubble within a day."

"I don't think they will do so, not yet anyway. Winterfell has strategic and symbolic value. This is the heart of the north, and the key to ruling it. For that reason I believe the Marshal will want Winterfell intact, so it can be used by the Empire. His recent victories will likely make him believe that he has the situation under control and that he has the luxury to try this. That overconfidence will be his undoing."

"Surely that won't last forever?" Davos said.

"No." Edmond agreed. "Eventually the Orlesian losses will begin to outweigh their potential gains, and then they'll cut the game short. But until that happens we will have time."

"Time to do what?" Davos asked.

"To hold our ground, and buy time for other armies to arrive to aid us." Edmond said.

"And if they do not?" Sansa asked.

"Even then we can fight to aid the Twin Kingdoms. Every Orlesian soldier we kill is one more other defenders in Westeros won't have to worry about."

"So you would make a sacrifice of us?" She asked, shocked.

"That's the only mode of resistance that makes sense in this situation. If we want to keep on fighting that's the way I believe we should go on about it. The other option is to surrender." Edmond said.

"Surely you are not suggesting that?" Sansa said.

"I'm not suggesting anything at the moment. It's not my call to make. That decision belongs to the King, and you My Lady. I'm simply laying out our choices as best I'm able to see them." He said.

"If we surrender they'll imprison us for life. If we fight and lose… they'll probably kill us." Davos said gravely.

"They probably will at that." Jon spoke out finally. "Winterfell is our home. But if this were just us, surrender might be an option to consider. But it's not just us. All the people in the North and many more in the South are counting on us. We cannot forsake them. For the sake of everyone in Westeros we must fight to the end, even if it means our deaths."

"I agree. We have a responsibility toward the people that we cannot turn away from. This is where we will make our stand." Sansa said. Edmond and Davos nodded their agreement as well.

"How ready is Winterfell to resist a siege?" Jon asked.

"We have been preparing for that possibility since you left for war, as a precaution. We have amassed food and supplies behind our walls, so starvation is not something we need to worry about. At your order we will empty out our armory, arm all of our people willing to fight. The rest I think we should send away." Sansa said.

"You would send them away? From safety? Why would you do that?" Jon asked, surprised.

"If Winterfell falls under attack it won't be safe here for anyone, and we don't need useless mouths. But I do not intend to just toss them out of the gates to die. I would send them to one of the Inquisition safe zones. Once there they will be safe, and they will be cared for until the war is over." Sansa explained.

"What if the Orlesian army attacks them on the road?" Jon countered.

"I don't think that too likely. By all the reports their army has not been actively attacking civilians, even if some of their allies have. And Winterfell is the target they are aiming for. They will be too preoccupied with us to pay mind to refugees." Sansa said.

Jon was quiet for a lengthy while, wrestling with his decision. "All right. You have a point." He said finally. "Perhaps… perhaps you should join them, get yourself to safety."

"Jon, don't' even think about it. I'm not abandoning my people." Sansa said at once.

"You said it yourself. It won't be safe here when the Imperials come. It would be a huge weight off my heart to know you were safe from them." Jon argued softly.

"I won't be. I'm someone who could lead the North in your stead. I'm too important for them to ever let me be. They know it, and I know their kind all too well. One way or another they will hunt me down no matter where I run from them. If I am to die somewhere then I want it to be here, where I belong, where all my hopes and dreams are rooted. I'm not going anywhere." Sansa said sternly.

Jon sighed. "I know better than to argue with you when you are in a mood like that. I hope you'll reconsider, but I won't try to force you to do so."

"Good. Then perhaps we can get back to our battle preparations?" She said. "The trench from the Battle of Nightfall still remains, and at the suggestion of the captain of my guard it is being dug wider and deeper, with steeper edges. With some fortune it will slow down attackers."

"It very likely will. It should also make it harder for the Orlesians to bring up rams, ladders or siege towers." Edmond commented.

Sansa nodded before continuing. "Meanwhile Davos has managed to acquire some interesting new allies."

"What allies?" Jon asked.

"Mage healers. Courtesy of King Markus of Nevarra, although officially he will say that he has no knowledge of them being here. Not all are Nevarran mind you. Some are, but others hail from elsewhere. They will help treat our wounded." Davos explained.

Edmond smiled. "Good to see some of my countrymen here lending a helping hand. But where did they come from? How come the Orlesians didn't stop them from coming here?"

"An old acquaintances of mine helped smuggle them here, in exchange for compensation of course." Davos answered.

"And what do the mages ask in return? I imagine they must want something." Jon asked.

"They do indeed, but interestingly enough gold is not what they want. Instead they have asked that after the war they will be made citizens of the realm and given a remote location for their own." Davos said.

"It's not an impossible request. We certainly have empty lands to give, and I always wanted to have more people in the North. But I'm curious as to why they have asked such a thing?" Jon said.

"The way they explained it to me was that they were mistrustful of the magical institutions in Thedas, whether the Circles or the College. They wanted to live on their own terms and came here, as far away as possible from both groups." Davos said.

"Will they stay with us when they realize that Winterfell is about to be surrounded by an overwhelmingly large Orlesian army?" Jon asked.

"I think so. They seem to consider aiding the sick and wounded their calling, something they should do whatever the conditions. By their own words that is one more reason they came here and something they intend to keep on doing even after the war is over." Davos said.

Jon nodded. "We will certainly have injured and sick people in need of treatment all too soon. If these mages do as they have promised, then they have earned their place in the North."

"I'm sure they'll appreciate that." Davos said.

"It seems we are off to a good start, such as it is. Now we should get to work. Let's make Winterfell as secure as we possibly can. Win or lose, the Orlesians will know the meaning of a fight. If any concerns or problems arise alert me, and we will do our best to resolve them." Jon said.

"Jon, before you go... there's something else I need to tell you. " Sansa said as the others left."It concerns Lyanna Mormont and why she never answered our summons."

"You know what happened?" Jon asked.

"Yes... for a while in fact..." She admitted with some embarrassment. "I... suppose I should have told you sooner, but I felt you needed to focus on the Orlesians. It's not an immediate issue for us right now, particularly under these circumstances. But in the long run this is big, and so you should know regardless. "

Jon was surprised. Then he sighed. "Sansa, that desicion should have been mine to make. You should have told me as soon as you knew."

"You're right, I'm sorry." She said, bowing her head.

Jon was quiet for a minute. "Well, at least you told me now. Apology accepted." He said then, his voice calm. "But in the future don't withold information from me, okay?"

"Okay." Sansa said, glad that he wasn't angry.

"Now then, what's going on at Bear Island?" He asked.

* * *

It was later that day as he was overseeing the preparations when Jon spotted Kieran crouched near the gate. The mage's finger moved over the stone, tracing a complex looking mark made of blue light. The mark glowed on the stone briefly, then faded away.

"What in the hells are you doing?" Jon asked, walking over.

"Wards." Kieran said in explanation, not turning his head from his work. "I heard what the Orlesians managed to do to your army. I'm concerned that they might try something similar when they come here. Magic is the one thing that could clear this castle of defenders without doing significant damage to the castle itself." After he had said this, Kieran moved to another section of wall and began to draw another symbol there, identical to the first one.

"And this will help prevent them from doing so?" Jon asked, pointing at the symbol.

"Yes. These wards are based around Templar techniques to protect sensitive areas from intruding spellcasters. They will dissipate any hostile magics before it can reach the walls or the defenders on them, as well as prevent any spells from being cast within their perimeter." Kieran said.

Jon nodded, seeing the wisdom in Kieran's plan. Magic had torn his army asunder, almost claiming his life as well. Unless steps were made to counter it magic would steal his family's ancestral home also.

"Will you be putting these across the outer wall?" Jon asked.

"And as many other surfaces as I can manage." Kieran confirmed. "Some areas will need to be left unprotected out of necessity. Lord Brandon's room for one, so that he can assist us during the battle. Also since I heard that we have mage healers here, I will also leave the infirmary areas unwarded."

"Then one has to hope that the Orlesians don't find and exploit these openings." Jon said.

"That and other complications. My spells are less permanent than the workings of the Templars, less robust against direct attacks. For now they will hold, but once the fighting starts I will have to redraw these daily to keep them from dissipating. But I will obviously not have the time or the energy to do so for the entire castle. I will have to focus my attention on critical areas and hope the rest hold on their own." Kieran said.

"What if I sent some of the mage allies we have acquired to assist you in this?" Jon offered.

Kieran shook his head. "If they wish to aid me in making the initial wards then I'll teach them how to make them, of course. But once the fighting starts I'd prefer if you had them helping the wounded. I suspect their needs will be greater than mine could ever be. I should be able to keep your castle adequately protected even without the aid of other mages. Should that change and the need become pressing I'll of course alert you of the fact."

"Understood… but are you sure you should be doing this?" Jon asked. "The Inquisition has declared itself to be neutral in this conflict. Aren't you in violation of your orders in helping us?" He added when Kieran gave him a surprised look.

Kieran chuckled. "I have not actually received any orders that expressly forbid me from offering you my aid. And my affiliation with the Inquisition has always been a loose one. I choose what kind of work I do for them. Beyond that I don't have to follow their commands if I don't wish to, and they well know it."

"Aren't you worried what it will do for the reputation of the Inquisition if their agent is caught fighting for our side when they have said that they're taking no part?" Jon asked.

"There will be no link. I don't have an Inquisition uniform, nor do I possess materials or documents that would connect me with them." Kieran assured. "And honestly when the Orlesians come over those walls the wont be asking questions about who any of us are working for. They'll be out for blood. Probably revenge as well, since we will have doubtless caused much grief to them for coming so far."

"That's the other thing. If you stay here I cannot guarantee your safety. I would not put anyone who doesn't have to be here in such danger. But that is not a risk you need to take. There are other options." Jon said.

"Oh aye." Kieran agreed. "I could leave if I wished to. I could probably even make it to one of the Inquisition safe areas before the Orlesians arrive. But I won't be doing that." He said, turning his eyes from his work to look directly into Jon's eyes.

"Your Grace, I have been here on assignment for many years now. In that time I have become very fond of the people of the North. The only reason I did not follow you to the field was because I believed that it would exceed my authority as an agent of the Inquisition. But now you are in imminent danger in your own home. If I left now I would feel like I was abandoning you. And without my efforts I'm rather certain that the risk of this going very badly for you is greatly increased. And so I'd much rather stay here, and help you in whatever way I can." He then explained.

"That is of course unless you order me to leave?" He said, framing his last statement as a question.

Jon slowly shook his head. "I would be utterly foolish to send you away now. We are in no position to turn away help, particularly of the kind as willingly given as yours. I just needed to be certain that you are doing this for the right reasons. But very well. If you are truly certain of sharing this peril with us then I welcome you, gladly. In fact I cannot thank you enough. Our friends are few and far between. It's good to know you are one of them."

Kieran gave him a look of meaningful understanding, then resumed his work once more.

"I'll see what can be done about having the other mages assist you." Jon said. "Tell me, do you know where Bran is? What is he doing?" He asked then.

"I believe he is in the Godswood, scouting for the progression of the Orlesian army. And once the battle begins he believes there might be something else he might be able to do to help our defenses, though he did not tell me exactly what had in mind." Kieran said.

Jon nodded and left towards the Godswood. He walked through the yards of his home, past soldiers and residents of Winterfell, each of whom gave him a quick bow as he passed before returning to their errands. On many faces Jon spotted concern, even fear, but also determination. His people knew how dire their situation was, but they trusted him enough to continue the fight regardless. Privately he hoped he would prove worthy of their trust. The people of the North deserved nothing less.

Jon entered through the small gate that led to the Godswood, the musty scent of the place welcoming him. He walked among the trees until he came to a large blackened spot in the grass before the weirwood tree. This spot marked the place where the Night King had met his demise during the Battle of Nightfall. Although many years had passed nothing would grow where he had been undone, no animal of any kind would come near the spot, and even people felt uneasy when in too close proximity. Jon felt no differently, but even so he had found that he could not come into the Godswood without stopping in front of this spot. The Night King had been his deadliest enemy by far, one that had occupied his thoughts for many years. Although he had not struck the killing blow, the Night King's passing had been a significant turning point for him, alongside everyone else, whether they knew it or not. This spot marked the place where history had been made, where the destiny of the world had been forever altered.

Feeling a sudden sense of revulsion he gave the spot a wide berth and walked to the far side of the weirwood tree where he found Bran, sitting in his wheelchair, facing the tree, his eyes rolled over in his head. When Jon approached Bran's eyes returned to normal and he turned his head to look at Jon, regarding the King with his ever-calm, almost serene look.

"Jon. I know what you have come to ask me." Bran said, his voice even as always. "Why did I not warn you that Winterfell was about to be attacked by assassins. Why did I not tell you that the Upstart Houses intended to betray us? Why didn't I tell you that a magical attack would break your army? And you are right of course, that should have been something I could see."

"And why didn't you?" Jon asked, his voice calm but firm.

To Jon's surprise Bran looked almost puzzled. "I don't know."


	35. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34; The Emperor and his shadow;**

**Characters of the chapter**

**Briala **Marquis of Orlais, advisor to Emperor Gaspard

**Gaspard de Chalons **Emperor of Orlais

_**Cursive/Bold text is in Orlesian**_

Briala walked through the halls and corridors of the Imperial Palace at Val Royeaux. At the door of one room she briefly stopped to nod at the guards flanking either side of it. The door was opened and she entered to find the room bustling with activity. The sides of the room were flanked by even more guards, while in the middle of the room stood Emperor Gaspard himself, arms crossed and eyes fixed to the far wall. On the far wall there was a mess of scaffolds and ladders. On those ladders a number of painters were working, a map depicting the known world slowly taking shape from their brushes. The room itself was large, and so the map itself would be immense. Even so it would be done in excruciatingly precise detail, with every river, forest and mountain range precisely placed upon its surface. Every notable city, town and fortress would be marked upon it. The most notable feature of the map were the removable tiles over each such location that could be changed to show ownership. Every nation and significant faction in the world could be represented, and new tiles would be made should new powers emerge in the world.

While the map could be used to keep track of the events of the wider world, at the end of the day the map was a complete vanity piece, far too large to be practical. It was meant to impress the importance of the Empire and the extent of its borders. Here Gaspard and rulers yet to come could bask in the vastness of their realm as well as plan and dream of conquests yet to come.

Other than the unfinished map the room was bare as of yet. But once completed it would be the nerve center for the ruling of the Orlesian Empire, where both matters of civil governance and affairs of military command would be handled. Once finished the sides of the room would be lined with shelves with books of learning about both civil management and warfare, as well as captured weapons, armor, banners and other trophies of Orlesian victories. In the center of the room the Emperor intended to have a table with a complex mechanism of movable parts that could be raised or lowered to represent geographic formations with remarkable precision.

The Emperor had also commissioned an ambitious project to have a miniature representations of every major city in the world to be able to be presented on that table, reproduced in great detail, right down to individual buildings. Should a city attract the Emperor's attention, whether this be during peace or war, it could be recreated here, where he could examine it to his heart's content and learn all there was to know about its structure. Yet ultimately this project too was more for show than pragmatism. It was to impress the Empire's sophistication and craftmanship to countrymen and foreigners alike. The sheer number of explorers, designers and artisans involved in the project was flaunting the Empire's resources, their capacity for designing and creating a complex little marvel like this. The cost of this project was naturally significant, but things like this tended to operate on a perverse logic where the being expensive only increased the worthiness of the investment.

Briala had heard that somewhere in the Red Keep at King's Landing there was a map of Westeros much like this one. And certainly this room as a whole had drawn inspiration from the War Room at Skyhold. It appeared that the Empire could not help but engage in a game of one-upmanship with every other nation in the world, refusing to be outdone in any area. And it appeared that for all his militaristic upbringing the Emperor could not resist the allure of grandeur and showmanship, as was the case with the majority of his countrymen.

Yet this room also struck a very different tone from Orlesian rulers of the past. It was a room specifically dedicated to the work of governing, whereas other Emperors and Empresses had exercised their will through parties, informal meetings and games of intrigue, only resorting to more direct displays of power when circumstances forced them to do so. It was an indication of Gaspard's straightforward attitude, his contempt for the convoluted intricacies and pretentious politeness of the Great Game, much preferring the other face of Orlais. For the Empire had ever had two personalities. One was a lazy, whimsical creature, prone to flights of fancy, interested in little besides pleasure and comfort, content to lounge amongst luxury and decadence for all eternity. The other was a military monstrosity, an aspect that was mostly seen only by the Empire's enemies. It was the power by which the Empire had originally been built, a power that once roused to anger could roll over just about anything in its path.

Briala wondered just how long this room would remain standing after Gaspard. Would the next ruler of the Empire keep it, or replace it with something more according to their preferences? Would the reforms he had made actually stick and create genuine change, or would they simply be an aberration before the status quo reasserted itself?

"Well, so long as that switch in rule was still a long way away." She thought to herself. There was still much that she needed to do. Much more she needed to accomplish to ensure her people could stand on their own without her oversight, as true equals among the humans of Orlais. That they would not slide to the state they used to be in, or an even worse state. Until that was accomplished she needed this Emperor to stay in power. She had had the fortune to have gained a decree of control over Gaspard. Through him she had the power to steer the Empire where she needed it to go, when she needed it. Through him she had led a shadow empire of her own, a sharp contrast to his overt and easy to see power. Hers was an empire with countless attentive eyes and ears, a network that spanned over many nations, its specialty being vast knowledge of supposedly secret things. She had used the power she had accumulated to enact changes that would improve the lot of her people. Those were the reforms she needed to withstand the test of time. She had no guarantee she would have the same control over the next Emperor or Empress as she had over Gaspard. She would rather no risk the loss of that control until her people were on solid ground.

Her people were what mattered to her in this. She had striven for a long time for their betterment. For if not her, who else was there to do so? Who would stand for elvenkind if not they themselves? And so for their sake she was willing to do just about anything, as the Twin Kingdoms had ended up discovering to their misfortune. She harbored no particular ill will towards either kingdom or their rulers, but they had managed to get themselves in the way of the Emperor's ambitions and her own desires. For that their kingdoms would have to fall.

She approached the Emperor and gave a formal curtsey. _**"My Emperor. I have more news from the frontlines." **_

Without turning his eyes from the map Gaspard snapped his fingers, the sounds of work around him ceased, all eyes turning to the Emperor.

"_**Leave us."**_ He told them. With that command the painters working on the map began to put away their tools, climb down from the scaffolds and exit through the door. He turned his head and nodded to the guards. The guards bowed to their Emperor and departed as well.

Briala and Gaspard waited until the last person had left the room and the door had closed.

"_**So?"**_ Gaspard asked after the two of them were alone, turning to her.

"_**The news I came to bring are most encouraging. The army of the North Kingdom has been defeated in the field. King Jon's forces sustained heavy casualties, thousands of enemies were taken captive and the remainder of them have been shattered. The King has managed to lead a force of few thousand back to Winterfell. Marshal de Rozien is moving to pursuing him, intending to lay siege to the castle and take it." **_Briala said.

"**What of the other survivors?"** He asked.

"_**The Marshal hunted down as many as was practical, but there are some. For the most part the surviving groups are of the same size as the one that was with the King, or smaller. Certainly none of them are strong enough to be a threat to the Grand Army on their own. And there is no one obvious beyond the walls of Winterfell that can reunite them to a single force once again, none in the North Kingdom at least. And even if someone managed it they would not be a significant threat, seeing as they now would command only a portion of the strength that they tried and failed to strike the Grand Army with earlier. Once the Marshal has managed to take Winterfell, the North Kingdom can be considered secured and we can proceed with the final phase of our invasion plan." **_She said.

"_**Good. Good."**_ The Emperor said, turning his attention back to the map.

Briala tilted her head slightly to the side. _**"You appear less thrilled about such good news than I expected. I thought you would be pleased."**_

"_**It's progress. And that is a good thing."**_ The Emperor admitted. _**"But the North Kingdom was never the issue in our invasion. In our estimations their forces were never sufficient to pose a threat to our forces on their own. The real challenger to us was always the more powerful army of the South Kingdom. The one still in the field and mostly intact. The one that has a dragon to use against us. I'll celebrate once the southern army is vanquished along with the dragon, once Westeros is successfully annexed to the Empire and once the local monarchs and their families are in our custody, or, if necessary, rotting in the ground. Until then everything is merely…progress." **_

"_**I see…"**_ Briala said. _**"Well, as it happens I have some good news relating to the Dragon Queen's army as well. Major General Robespierre reports that he has successfully seized Moat Cailin. He had the castle gate broken down with magical attacks, then stormed it with his troops. The defending Royalist garrison apparently decided to resist to the last man, including their commander Lord Glover, even though he as a highborn would have been afforded the privilege of ransom. Apparently the northmen did manage to offer significant resistance during their final hour. In fact Major General Robespierre expressed a wish for the bravery of Moat Cailin's defenders to be noted in official records, which he apparently has done in his report. Once those documents reach here I will of course inspect that the contents are appropriate and make any necessary revisions before committing the report to our archives. Nevertheless Moat Cailin is now under our control and is being prepared to resist Queen Daenerys's army. The Nahashin specialist troops have been deployed to the surrounding marshlands, ready to begin conducting raids on the Queen's army when it arrives."**_

"_**Is the artifact being installed at Moat Cailin?"**_ He asked.

"_**As per our plans. It is essential to preventing Queen's forces from breaking through our defenses."**_ She replied.

"_**It is." **_The Emperor agreed. _**"I simply hope the device functions as intended. And that the dragon Queen doesn't have the notion to bypass the castle with her beast and attack the main body of the Grand Army on her own." **_

"_**Even if she does we should have more than enough firepower to bring down a lone dragon." Briala said. "But of course I bow to your expertise in military matters."**_ She added.

"_**We might be able to bring the creature down, but will our casualties remain at acceptable levels?"**_ Gaspard said.

"_**Well, if you are concerned you should know that Messere Gagnon has begun seeking alternative solutions as a precaution."**_ Briala said.

"_**Hmmph. And I suppose you want to use money from the Empire's coffers to finance this endeavor?"**_ He asked dryly.

"_**I think that would be most prudent. It will expedite the process and once complete it will add security to the Grand Army, giving us a fallback plan should unforeseen circumstances arise."**_ Briala said.

"_**Fine, fine. We've already poured vast amounts of funds and people into this. What's one more expense? Tell Gagnon that I will provide any funding he needs in this." **_Gaspard said, waving his hand dismissively.

"_**I'll deliver him the good news my Emperor**_." Briala said, curtseying again and turning to leave.

"_***My* Emperor… "**_ Gaspard repeated. _**"Are you even aware of the double meaning in you saying that?"**_

"_**Oh, I'm aware." **_She said with a sly smile.

"_**Oh? So you do that deliberately?"**_ He asked.

"_**On occasion."**_ She admitted.

Gaspard huffed. _**"I can't say I fancy being owned by anyone. It's not what being an Emperor is supposed to about. It's not what I was after when I sought the throne. Especially not since the person I'm in the pocket of is a rabbit."**_

"_**You know I hate it when you call me that. None among my people take kindly to that." **_Briala said, irked by the use of the slur.

"_**I know it. Which is why I on occasion do it deliberately."**_ The Emperor quipped. Then he sighed, suddenly sounding exhausted. _**"But I confess I sometimes get tired of this game of needling between us. I wonder if it's the same for you?" **_

"_**All the time… all the time." **_She said, bowing her head, sounding as tired as Gaspard. _**"That is a war front where I welcome any ceasefire I can get. I much prefer it when things run smoothly between us. Some of our greatest accomplishments have been created during such moments. I'd propose a more permanent peace between us, but I'm unsure if such a thing is possible." **_

"_**I'm not certain of that either. It could be that our natures are simply too different to ever fully stop our verbal duels. Then again, now that we have both recognized and admitted our weariness for it, maybe it more possible than either of us knew. Perhaps we should try." **_He said.

"_**Perhaps we should." **_She agreed. _**"Nothing for us to lose. And even if we don't succeed I think we have a good thing going between us despite our differences. We have respect for each other's positions and a division of labor based on that. I only exercise my influence over you when the wellbeing of my people is on the line. Other than that you may govern your Empire as you see fit, and I even help you in doing so. Both of us get to rule over the portion of Orlais that actually matters to us, for the betterment of both sides. I'd call it a reasonably good coexistence."**_

"_**Yes, a harmonious relationship of co-operation." **_The Emperor agreed. _**"But we have had little choice. That was the system the Inquisitor imposed on us. I wonder if he now regrets the choice he made that day at the Winter Palace?" **_

"_**In part I suspect. He is someone who wishes to change the world for the better. At the Winter palace he seized the opportunity he believed would best move Orlais in a direction where the strong do not prey on the weak." **_She said.

"_**And to secure the Empire's support against his enemy at that time." **_He reminded.

She nodded. _**"That too. We provided that support for him and I've done my share to further his dreams by looking after the elves. On those grounds he must still believe he did the right thing. But I doubt very much he appreciates what we have decided to do to the Twin Kingdoms now. Then again, something like this might have happened no matter who he put in charge of the Empire. He may realize that as well. And the Twin Kingdoms have cause to be grateful that it's you rather than Celene they are up against." **_

"_**Is that so? How do you figure?"**_ He asked.

"_**You are a fairly straightforward man. Now that you have decided that you want possession of their lands you will take them like a soldier does, by hitting them in the face with a giant army. They may lose against you, but at least they will be able to see you coming and resist you. Celene on the other hand would have found some way to swindle those Kingdoms right out from under the ruling monarchs." **_She said.

Gaspard laughed. _**"I grant you that is all too true. She would have charmed the both of them, warped their perceptions until they were smiling as they consigned themselves to eternal servitude under her. That was always her way, and never mine. Perhaps you're right. Perhaps they are fortunate they are facing me, an enemy they can understand."**_

"_**The Inquisitor might have appreciated her approach to this more though."**_ She said.

"_**I suppose. But we are not doing this to please him. And Celene would have had to send troops there eventually to make sure Teviner can't seize the lands her subtlety won. That is the reason why I believed it necessary to take control of Westeros directly and not waste time peddling for their approval. The risk to our own nation is too great." **_He said.

Briala nodded her agreement. Beyond the other things they stood to gain from this invasion keeping that nation in check was an important motivator. If the Imperium took Westeros, Orlais would be at risk. And if Orlais fell… humans might have a chance to remain free, albeit oppressed under the heel of the Magisters. Not all would be so lucky, but they would have a chance. Her people on the other hand would be dead or slaves without exception, just like the Tevinters preferred to have them. And so it had to be admitted that was fear as much as ambition that had driven their actions, fear of an ancient, foul empire that was ever seeking to retake the position it once held in the world. One that with the amount of control they had achieved over Essos had drifted awfully close to having the means to realize those dreams. She and Gaspard had not trusted peoples of Westeros to stand on their own, and as they were driven by other desires they had concluded that conquering Westeros gained them more than being their ally. At the end of the day the rule of Orlais over those lands was better than any of the alternatives.

Indeed Briala had learned that Orlais was not the only power after this prize. The Qunari had made a move as well, seizing an island in the northern portion of Westeros. Their involvement made it all the more imperative that the Empire take the Twin Kingdoms first. As threats went, the Qunari were just as bad as Tevinter. The Inquisitor was certainly not seeking conquest, but it seemed he too had his own plans for the Twin Kingdoms, seeing how many soldiers and agents he had there. And in the middle of these competing powers were the Twin Kingdoms themselves, struggling to maintain their sovereignty. It appeared that Westeros and the question of its ownership had become the center of everyone's world these days…

"_**By the way, speaking of the Inquisitor, have you heard that he has summoned us to Skyhold? No doubt he intends to try to demand us to suspend our campaign in the name of restoring the peace."**_ The Emperor said then.

"_**So? Why does that matter? We are not going to answer those summons… are we?" **_She said dismissively.

"_**Do you really believe me so foolish as to do that? I've invested far too much in this undertaking to see it fail, let alone walk away from it voluntarily. But I'm making an awfully lot of enemies over this. First the Chantry, and now the Inquisition." **_He said.

"_**Then maybe next time you will listen when I tell you not to try to fake Chantry support to popularize a war. This is no longer a world where the Empire can just use the Chantry's sanction as a blunt instrument to excuse the expansion of their borders. Such a world did exist once, a long time ago. But that world died in the Fereldan rebellion, and it is not about to be reincarnated while the current divine and the Inquisition are in charge.**_

"_**Yes, in hindsight maybe I should have listened to you. I only hope that our gains are worth alienating so many." **_He said.

"_**I seem to remember that we both agreed that they were. You get to have the glorious legacy you wished to have, to be honored in the present and remembered in the future as the greatest Emperor of our nation. And I get to distract our nobility from the controversial reforms I've made you do while also getting an opportunity to form an elven nobility, which I consider a critical gain in my plans for my people. If you had second thoughts you should have voiced them then, not now when we are committed." **_She said.

"_**Fair enough. But I hope you appreciate the risk we are taking. If this fails it will sting the both of us for years. It might even end up strengthening our enemies by leaving the Twin Kingdoms weakened against anyone else that might come after them. For both our sakes, this had better work." **_He said.

Briala shrugged. _**"So far it has. I believe a dose of optimism is in order for you My Emp… Your Majesty. You may find it will do wonders to the quality of your daily life. Our next test will be at Moat Cailin. I'm sure things will continue to go our way."**_

Then she left, leaving the Emperor alone in the room.

"_**We'll see…" **_Gaspard said to himself quietly.


	36. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35; The art of persuasion;**

**Characters of the chapter**

**Agatha, **Bard of Orlais

**Roslin Tully, **Lady of Riverrun, widow to Edmure Tully, the former Lord of Riverrun

**Ser Kenton, **Knight in the service of House Kronos

_**Cursive/Bold text is in Orlesian**_

'"So it's confirmed then?" Ser Kenton asked of Agatha. The two were meeting at the battlements of Riverrun, discussing recent news. At first they had been receiving scattered groups of soldiers from House Sea. They claimed that Jaime Lannister had destroyed their army and had since then been moving his army northwards. Agatha and Ser Kenton had sent out a few scouts in response to look for that army. And now ravens carrying their findings had returned to them.

"So it seems to be. My people sent word they had spotted the Lannister army perhaps a few days march from here. We can't know if they're just passing by or if they're going to come here and we shouldn't be taking any chances. I issued an order to my scouts to return as soon as they spotted the enemy force. They'll riding hard to reach the castle before the enemy army does. Those of my people already here I'll have prepared for battle, just in case. You need to do the same." She said.

"I don't take orders from you. We have a shared command, remember? Those were the orders given by my Lord and your Emperor. And you can be thankful that those orders were issued. If not for them I would never agree to share command with a woman. But even my orders can't make me take commands from you." Kenton replied, making no effort to hide the venom in his words.

Agatha could not help but roll her eyes. "Consider my words to be suggestions if that makes you feel better. As long as what needs to happen gets done I don't give a fuck. But frankly I think we have much more pressing problems than your damn pride. No one said we have to like each other, but if we want to survive we need to work together."

"I'll have a chat with Lady Roslin. If the castle becomes besieged she might be useful in more ways than one." She added.

"What makes you think she'll even talk to you?" Kenton asked.

"Trust me, that is not going to be a problem. It's the opposite that is the issue. And the fact that she's saying the wrong things at the moment. Given how many times she's threatened to flay us all alive I'm starting to think we may have accidentally captured a Bolton instead of a Frey." She jested.

Kenton simply stared at her frowning in puzzlement. "What?"

"You know, the former northern House that liked to…" She tried to explain before tapering to a halt, exasperated that a Westerosi of all things didn't get that joke. "Ugh…never mind. I'm going." She said and left the room. ¨

"_**Humorless asshole…" **_She grumbled as she walked through the hallways of Riverrun. The initial meeting between her and Ser Kenton had proven to be indicative of his attitude in general. He was someone who still very much held many of the traditional attitudes of Westerosi, an approach that was often incompatible with the Thedosian way of viewing things.

This was far from the first time they had had harsh words for each other. In the time that they had been here their differing personalities had caused verbal clashes between them on almost daily basis. Some of that animosity had spilled over to their respective groups, causing several scuffles. The only reason matters had not escalated further was because both sides knew that if blades were drawn there would be no going back. With so many enemies beyond the walls the people inside them could not afford to slaughter each other, particularly since some of those enemies were on their way here.

Finally she was in front of a door guarded by two of her people. She might have preferred to put Lady Roslin and her son Hoster into the local dungeon, where they would be secure. But Kenton had insisted that it would be wholly inappropriate to treat those of noble birth so. Even in Orlais nobles were also afforded greater courtesy than mere peasants, so she had felt compelled to concede his point that time. So instead they had sealed the two in their rooms in the family's wing of the castle, taking every precaution to ensure there would be no escape for them. At least Kenton had not interfered when she had separated the boy from his mother upon their capture despite the rather fierce protests from Lady Roslin at the time. The separation was essential to what Agatha had planned on doing next.

She nodded to the guards and one of them turned to unlock the door, while another one was standing watch in case Lady Roslin unwisely tried to burst out of her room the moment an opening was presented. Fortunately the Lady of Riverrun was not foolish enough to attempt anything so futile. The room was a fairly simple one, obviously made for a noble to live in, but far from the ornate styles of Orlais. Viewed from the door there was a bed on the left side of the room, a round table and some wooden chairs on the right hand side. Near the foot of the bed there was a shelf with some books in it. Some distance beyond the table there was a fireplace and on the far wall there was a window that allowed light into the room, but one which was also too narrow for a person to fit through, since this was a castle built with primarily defensive purposes in mind.

On entering Agatha found the Lady of Riverrun sitting on her bed, staring at a book. Staring, because while the book was open before her, her eyes weren't moving in a way that would indicate she was actually reading the words, though obviously she was trying. "Probably too restless to do so." Agatha thought.

Noticing the Orlesian bard enter Roslin slammed her book shut, tossing it to the floor as she stood up, and closed the distance between them in a few strides.

"You! I demand to see my son! You will bring him to me immediately, or by the gods I swear to you when this castle is retaken by the Queen's forces I will have every last one of you…" Roslin snarled, face twisted in anger.

"Yes, yes, everyone knows what you've threatened to do. And no one cares. Now sit down, shut up and listen to what you are being told!" Agatha barked back, irritated. For emphasis she gave Roslyn a sharp shove to the shoulder, making the other woman fall backwards into a chair just behind her. Her irritation fading away, a slight smile tugged the corner of the Orlesian's mouth. Agatha then strolled to the other side of the table and seated herself, one arm leaning against the table.

"I have received some rather disturbing reports of late. I'm told that a sizeable force of Twin Kingdom's forces is headed in the direction of Riverrun. There is a good chance they intend to engage us to take this castle back." She said.

Roslin's expression turned from anger to smug superiority. "Then I suppose the judgement for your crimes is almost upon you. I'll make sure all of you understand the severity for your crimes before the end."

"No. That will not be happening. Because you are going to help me make sure this castle will not be taken." Agatha replied, continuing to smile.

Roslin scoffed, turning up her nose.

Agatha shrugged. "I take that to mean you will not cooperate. Well that is unfortunate."

She pretended to look concerned about the situation for a moment. Then her smile returned. "Oh, I almost forgot to mention. I had a chat with your son earlier. He's a smart boy. You should be proud." Then her expression turned sad, all an act of course. "Such a shame really…"

The bard's words sinking in, Roslin's expression changed again, first into shock, then right back to anger. "If you have done anything to him, I swear…"

"Oh, I have done nothing. Nor do I intend to. Your son is perfectly safe." Agatha interjected.

"Trust me, harming children is not something I'm in the business of doing. That said, it is a sad truth that for every one of us that would not harm children there is another that would. Some of them wouldn't even have to be paid for it. There are some bards of such character here I'm afraid. That is something that is almost impossible to filter out you when choosing people to take part in a mission, you understand. But still, you need not be concerned. A good bard master knows her people." She explained, Roslin's eyes slowly growing wider as she talked.

"I know which ones won't do harm to your son… and which ones _would." _Agatha continued, making sure to put the tiniest emphasis on the last word.

"I'll make sure that the wrong kind of individuals don't come into contact with your boy." She said. Then she took a dramatic pause before shrugging. "Of course, in some hypothetical situations, say, if the castle's defenses were to be breached by an assaulting army, well… I must admit that, uh… things could get…complicated. Yes, that could be… problematic. I would of course do my utmost to ensure your boy comes to no harm but… all that chaos, all that fighting… all my focus would be on battling the intruders, not in watching my own people. Unfortunately, in such circumstances it would be hard for me to…"

"Stop." Roslin interrupted, fighting back tears. "For the love of the gods, stop."

The Lady of Riverrun bowed her head, defeated. "You've made you point. What would you have of me?"

Agatha gave a wicked grin. "I am glad that we understand each other finally. First we will tour the castle together, and you will tell me everything about the castle's defenses. Its strengths, its weaknesses, its defensive layers, the order in which they are to be utilized, how they will funnel the enemy. All the hidden tunnels, all its secrets, surprises, and traps. _Everything_."

"I-I'm afraid I might not know all that much. I'm not very learned in war or the construction of castles. I'm not originally from this castle, and my husband, he did not tell me very much…" Roslin stammered.

Agatha leaned over the table and gently took the other woman's hands into hers. "You will tell me as much as you are able, and hopefully, _hopefully_, that will be enough. I do hope you will not forget anything of importance. As I believe we both agree, we do not want Riverrun's defenses breached by anyone.

"No. No. We don't. I'll tell you everything. Everything I know." Roslin said.

"That's good to hear." Agatha said. "Now, that was the first thing I require of you. The second thing I need your help with is something that may or may not come into play, depends a little on how things go. You see, hopefully the enemy army will simply pass us by, being none the wiser to our presence. But if that does not happen, if they actually come here and besiege this castle, then you are to stand on those battlements and command them to leave. I would have made Lord Edmure do this, but alas he's not here to do so."

"Because you killed him." Roslin said quietly.

Agatha nodded. "Because we killed him. But since he is dead, you are the next best thing for this. Certainly they would not listen to us if we told them to leave. But as the Lady of Riverrun you can tell them that their presence is not welcome, that they have no business being in or near Riverrun, and that attempts to force their way in will only endanger you and your remaining family."

"I'll do it. Anything you ask. Just give me my son's safety." Roslin said.

"I shall. So long as the conditions are suitable to so doing. Good talk. But now I'm afraid I have some things to attend to. We can start touring this castle when I return." Agatha said, then stood up and moved to the door, intending to leave.

"Wait." Roslin said. "My son. I want to…" She said before she caught herself, struggling with the next words. "I would like to see him. Please." She pleaded.

Agatha nodded. "Of course. I'll have him sent for you. You'll have one hour to be together. After that he'll have to go back to his rooms, so make the best of it. Afterwards we have work to do, you and I."

"Thank you, My Lady." Roslin said quietly, keeping her eyes cast down, quite a different display from the indignant noblewoman there had been when they started their conversation.

"My Lady?" Agatha said before laughing. "Factually incorrect, but feel free to keep calling me that. I rather like it. And I rather think that keeping me on a good mood will be a good strategy for you. Just a hunch."

When Agatha exited Roslin's room she was displeased to find Kenton on the other side, leaning on the far wall, glaring at her bards. Apparently he was unable to leave well enough alone.

"So?" The knight asked.

"I have secured her cooperation." She said with forced cheer.

"You have? And how have you managed this miracle?" He asked dryly.

She smirked. "Let's just say that we have made a bargain."

"Wait. What bargain? What have you…?" Kenton asked, shocked.

"Oh stop being so bloody paranoid all the time you oaf. It's nothing that will compromise you or your masters. I just reminded her of the things that are truly important." She said.

"Love. It's such a potent force, is it not? Particularly the love between a mother and child. There is power enough there to turn aside entire armies." She added, continuing to smirk.

"What on earth are you going on about, woman?" Kenton demanded, now utterly confused.

Agatha rolled her eyes. "Don't strain your brains with it. It is of no consequence right now. And your efforts would be better focused on doing your part in making this castle ready to be defended."

"Strain my brain? Did you just call me..?" Kenton said, confusion changing to being offended.

"Well, if you have to _ask…" _Agatha interrupted, then unceremoniously turned to the guards at the door:

"The Lady asked to see her boy. Fetch him for her. Then wait one hour, and bring the boy back to his rooms." She told them.

"Hey, wait a minute! I didn't authorize…" Kenton tried to protest.

"I did." Agatha cut him off once again. "It is important for her to see that her son is alive and well. It is essential to ensure she will remain cooperative."

"And one more thing. From this point forward I don't want you or your people interfering or interacting with the prisoners. They're my turf now. My people will attend to them." She added just as Kenton was about to speak again.

"By what right do you imagine that you get to just dictate…?" Kenton said.

"I was the one who managed to make her do what we tell her to. You didn't even think that was doable. We achieved results, and so we will be the ones to manage this now. I will not have your people and their ham-fisted attitudes mess this up." She interjected yet again.

"My people are ham-fisted? May I remind you whose fault it is that we are dealing with the Lady of Riverrun instead of the Lord himself in the first place?" Kenton countered.

"You may. Whether I give a damn is another matter entirely. But if you or any of your people tamper with the prisoners they will do so at the cost of their lives, and damn any deals done between your bosses and ours." Agatha said.

"Are you threatening me?" Kenton said menacingly.

"Why, yes, in terms simple enough that I thought you might understand them." Agatha replied. "Was that too much to hope for? Shall I dumb it down further?" She asked.

Kenton narrowed his eyes at her, snarled and grabbed his sword, drawing it partway out of its sheath. But as soon as he made a move the guards at the door brought their hands to their weapons as well, making him freeze. In a slow, deliberate motion Agatha placed a hand on a dagger at her belt, fixing Kenton with an icy glare. A tense standoff followed, Kenton weighing his options. He was carrying his sword, but not his armor, as he was not been expecting to enter combat. At the moment he was outnumbered three to one. And no doubt he had heard how efficiently the bards had cleaned out the castle from the rebel Tully guardsmen. And if he raised a hand against them, it would be the final straw in the animosity between their groups, leading to all out violence. Even he knew that was a terrible idea with a Lannister army bearing down on them.

Eventually Kenton decided that this argument wasn't worth the hassle that would follow, sheathing his sword. "Fine!" He spat, and strode away.

Once the knight had disappeared behind the corner Agatha closed her eyes and blew out a relieved sigh. That had been too close. As much as she would have liked to put that arrogant Knight in his place, that was not an option. Like it or not, peace between them had to be maintained. That said, the current situation was already ugly, and not a good foundation for their planned joint defense of their castle. This time they had gotten away with a scare, but how long could that continue to be the case?

"Until the Lannisters arrive." She decided. When that army got here they would have a common enemy that would distract from their mutual rivalries. At least until that time she would have to strive to ensure things would not boil over.

She turned her attention back to her guards. _**"Fetch the boy for his mother, and follow your instructions. I'll be back for her when she is done meeting her son. We will tour the castle so she can instruct me on the defenses. I want you two there as an escort in case she decides to try something. In the meantime if Kenton or any of his people try to get into talks with either of them at any point in the future, tell me, and I'll sort it out. Inform the guards watching over the boy as well and spread the word once you get off duty." **_She told them.

Both guards nodded.

"_**An enemy army will be here in a few days' time. By the time they arrive I want everyone here prepared for battle. I'll make sure everyone knows. You on your part make sure that you and everyone you know are ready when the time comes." **_She continued.

"_**Understood." **_One of the guards said.

"_**Before the enemy arrives we can expect our scouts back, possibly more survivors from house Sea as well. Send my people that arrive to me for assignment in manning the defenses, and point the Westerosi at Kenton for the same." **_She added.

"_**Are we sure we wish to send the Westerosi to him, Ma'am? Considering everything that is going on." **_The other Guard asked.

"_**I'm sure. Even as we have a highly dysfunctional relationship, we have managed to establish an understanding of sorts. He handles the Westerosi, and I handle my people. It is one of the few points we have managed to agree on without arguing about it, and so I won't mess with his people. Mostly because I don't want him start messing with mine." **_She said. After that she left, moving on to the thousand other tasks that still needed completion before her people and Riverrun could be considered ready to resist a siege.


	37. Chapter 36

**Chapter 36; Surprises;**

**Characters of the chapter**

**Ald****é****ric Chaput, **Ambassador on behalf of the Circles of Magi

**Andharr Kronos **Lord of the Upstart House Kronos

**Daenerys Targaryen, **The Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains, Queen of the of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men of the South, Queen of the South Kingdom of the Twin kingdoms and Protector of the Realm

**Grey Worm **Master of War on the Small Council of Queen Daenerys, High Commander of the Royal Army

**Yann Robespierre **Major General of the Orlesian army

_**Cursive/Bold text is in Orlesian**_

Daenerys was on dragonback, circling above her army, observing their advance. The interrogation of the Orlesian prisoners had yielded her knowledge of the imperial plans, and now she was bringing her army to the aid of the North with all available speed. Along the way her forces had had run ins with forces of House Kronos and the Orlesians supporting them. Unlike House Blackstar before them her enemy had focused on harassing her army, operating in several small detachments around her army, rarely more than a few hundred soldiers in each. It was hard to estimate how many enemies there had been surrounding her forces, since the number and size of detachments seemed to always shift and change. They had hit her army it while it was on the march or encamped for the night, always melting away before serious forces could be brought to bear to quash them. Each time such an attack had happened it had slowed her army down, frustrating their progress. Between larger attacks her enemies nibbled had at her army, adding more souls to their tally. Scouts and foraging parties left the camp and never returned. Guards watching over the camp were found in the morning, murdered at their posts, making the rest scared to perform night duties. Even worse, the enemy had been hitting the supply trains heading to her army from the territories of the South Kingdom. An army marched on its stomach, and these constant raids were straining her ability to keep those bellies full. The situation had been alleviated somewhat by restored contact with the Vale.

As soon as her forces had secured a crossing over the Trident she had dispatched a splinter force to retake the Bloody Gate. After initial difficulties in so doing her forces had gotten a lucky break. Loyal forces of the Vale trying to retake the bloody gate on their part had realized what her soldiers were trying to do and had waited for the splinter force to attack again to commence their own offensive. Falling under attack from both sides at once, the Bloody Gate had soon been in Royalist hands once again, securing land access to the rich farmlands of the Vale. The army of the Vale had not been fully assembled she had learned, having been hit especially hard by the Orlesian assassins. Many more were tied up trying to locate and destroy a raiding force sent by House Blackstar. Nonetheless the Lords of the Vale had promised her as many troops as could be spared. The ones assisting in reclaiming the Bloody Gate had joined her splinter force, and more were to follow them later. But the good news had been soured when the splinter force had been ambushed and nearly wiped out on its way back to her, several enemy detachments combining their strength to take them down. It had been the biggest victory her enemies had gained with these recent attacks.

In response to the attacks she had taken to flying around with Drogon, patrolling around her army, destroying any enemy group she happened upon. But the enemy had proven canny, seeking to hide themselves in woodlands and other areas that could hide them from hunters overhead. If spotted anyway they always scattered in all directions to limit the number she would manage to kill, later reforming themselves and resuming their attacks. For every enemy unit she had spotted and burned another had evaded detection and had been able to continue assaulting her army. The final results had left much to be desired. Grey Worm had done his part by sending out small forces to hunt for the enemy as well, but these had proven to be even more ineffectual than her efforts. If the force sent out was too large the enemy had simply stayed away from them, leading their pursuers on a pointless chase across the countryside. If the force sent was too small they were at risk of the enemy detachments combining themselves and wiping them out, just as they had done with the troops that had taken the Bloody Gate.

There was no doubt in her mind that if she had concentrated the bulk of her forces to the effort she would have been able to root these raiders out and eradicate them. But there had been no time for that. Instead she had tried to ignore the harassing forces as much as possible, only engaging in battle with them when she had to. She kept her army moving northwards, trying to cover as much ground as was humanely possible every day. The rapid pace with which her army was advancing and the constant engagement was tiring her troops out, but she had little choice. The one good thing to result from these constant attacks was to bring them more prisoners and captured imperial dispatches, and thanks to them she was by now aware of what had happened to Jon's army, and that Orlesians were now in control of Moat Cailin. Now she was racing the clock to get to her family in Winterfell in time to save them, and the ally she had in the North Kingdom. Such had been her haste to reach them that she had actually considered leaving the army behind and using Drogon to bring the fight to the enemy on her own. But after conversing with her advisors she had been forced to conclude that doing so might be unwise. Tyrion had been right in advocating for caution at the beginning of this war. The way Jon's army had been vanquished was proof of that. Even Aegon the Conqueror had not sent a single dragon against a force this large, and what she now faced was worse than anything he had come up against. She needed the added security her army would bring. Still, the option to do otherwise remained to her and she would use it should circumstances turn truly dire.

She was only glad that she had gotten Robb out of harm's way well beforehand. Had that not been the case her worry would have prevented efficient decision making, only sealing the fate of those he wished to protect. That did not mean she was free of concern for those that remained, anything but. Jon was her husband and the love of her life. Sansa meanwhile had in eight years slowly transitioned from an adversary to a friend and valued ally. And the North… the North was required if her own kingdom was to remain free. But that consideration paled before the need to keep Jon and Sansa safe from harm. They were the family she had never had, and she would go to great lengths to protect them. That was why these raids had vexed her to considerable extent. They slowed her down, every moment lost bringing that much closer the loss of the people she cared about. It had been a great relief when the assaults had come to an abrupt halt recently, the majority of the enemies surrounding them breaking off and fleeing northwards along the Kingsroad, the rest keeping their distance. The reverse side of the coin had been that this had been a clear signal that Moat Cailin had fallen to imperial forces, one more reminder that time was running low.

She was continuing to fly overhead just as her army was making ready enter the marshlands of the Neck when she noticed something happening on the ground that caught her attention: The marching column had apparently stopped moving, some kind of commotion at the front. She diverted Drogon to a descent and as she approached she saw almost immediately that this was not an attack against her forces. Even so she thought it best to investigate. As she landed her dragon to the swamps just next to the road she could see the problem: A sizeable mound of hay, mud, wood and rocks had been piled on the narrow road, blocking the army's path. Grey Worm, and a bunch of other soldiers had gathered in front of it.

"My Queen! Someone has erected a barricade here! Our soldiers will need some time to clear it!" Grey Worm said when he spotted her.

"Could we get our troops around it instead?" She asked, not liking the notion stopping here to work instead of continuing their advance.

"Unfortunately no. Foot soldiers and horses might make it, though it would slow them. But the carts would get hopelessly stuck in the mud." Came the reply.

She nodded. "Very well. But work fast. Time is of the essence."

Grey Worm turned to the cluster of soldiers around him and set them to the task. Remaining on dragonback she observed them work. They continued for while, shoveling away the mud, using their hands to pull off larger chunks of debris. Then suddenly there was movement inside the wall of mud. There was a spray of dirt and one of the soldiers fell on his back, something protruding from his throat. The other soldiers stopped in their work and retreated away.

Realizing that the soldier on his back was not moving, Daenerys made to dismount to take a closer look, Drogon lowering himself towards the ground until she could step down. The moment her feet touched the ground she sank in the mud up to her ankles. In that same instant she felt something hard break under her heel.

A blast of fire shot upwards, enveloping her in flame. Anyone but her would have been badly burned in that moment. But fire had never been able to harm her, and this time was no different. Meanwhile her armor shielded her from the metal fragments brought up by the fire, save for a few that traced tiny cuts on her unprotected head, but nothing more life threatening. Even so the suddenness of the blast was enough to make her lose her balance and fall over, landing on her back in the mud. For a frightening few moments she was sinking, her armor pulling her down, water seeping in through the joints, the soft soil preventing her from standing up or holding on to anything. Then she felt hands going under her armpits and pulling her out. Looking up she could see Grey Worm above her, dragging her back.

"My Queen, are you unharmed?" He asked as they reached a relatively solid patch of ground and he released her from his hold, letting her sit up.

"Reasonably so." She said, still spooked. "But what in the hells just happened? Just before the explosion I felt something under my foot. I wonder what it was?"

"Maybe we can find out." Grey Worm said.

"One moment Your Grace. Please remain here, for your own safety." He told her, then moved to where the explosion had happened. He plunged his arms into the mud, feeling around. He pulled out an object he found and returned it to her.

It was a piece of blackened and twisted metal, so badly damaged that it was hard to tell what kind of shape it had had before. The thing had remnants of a glass center, probably globe shaped originally . Daenerys guessed it was the portion she had stepped on.

"What kind of a device is that?" She asked, eyeing the thing.

"I've never seen it's like My Queen. It seems to be made to explode when stepped on. It was submerged so it would be hard to see. I'm thinking it was planted here in the hopes our forces would stumble on it as we sent them to circle around the barricade." He said.

"Could be. In that case I'm glad we didn't send troops or carts here. They would have been blown sky high." She said.

"If that was the reason it was put here then odds are it is not the only one." She began to say. Just then the sound of an explosion in the direction of the road confirmed her suspicions. Turning their heads they saw a trio of soldiers that had been coming to their aid, only for two of them to stumble into a similar trap as Daenerys has set off. Both lay on the ground now, ablaze. A third one moved to the side from them, only for there to be a metallic clang that made the soldier fall over screaming, his leg sheared off below the knee. He thrashed around for a time before bleeding out. Daenerys and Grey Worm could do nothing but watch the scene in absolute shock, unable to go to the aid of the soldiers for the risk of meeting the same end.

"Shit." Grey Worm swore. "Stay on the road! Stay on the road!" He shouted to the remaining soldiers.

"They're all around us it seems." She said nervously. Then she glanced at the path Grey Worm had taken the tracks easily visible on the muddy ground. "And you just ran straight though the… it seems you are supremely lucky my friend. You managed to get to me without setting off any of them."

Grey Worm nodded as he understood what he had managed to do. Luck had never been something he had thought wise to rely upon, but now he had to agree that luck had been with him. "We cannot stay here. The road appears safe for the time being. We should return along my tracks, it's most likely to be the safest route." He then said after a moment of thinking.

"Yes. Good idea." She said in agreement.

"But let me go first, just in case there are more traps." She said as Grey Worm was about to start down the path. "Fire cannot harm me. If end up setting off the traps I will be unhurt. That leaves only the other kind." She explained.

"I should go first Your Grace. You are our Queen. You should be protected." Grey Worm tried to argue.

"Not by getting yourself burned to a crisp in my name. There's no sense in putting you at risk any more than me. You are just as important a leader in this war. This way will be less dangerous for both of us." Daenerys said firmly.

Accepting her point Grey Worm nodded reluctantly and the pair headed for the road, dreading every step they took. When they finally reached the road again they breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"Flame traps. I wonder how the Orlesians managed that. Somehow I'd guess they have more to do with alchemy than magic, this time at least. I seem to remember they have some knowledge of such things. The other kind seemed to be a good old fashioned bear trap." Daenerys contemplated, looking in the direction they had come from.

"But what about the one that killed him?" She continued, turning her gaze to the man that had been killed clearing the barricade.

"Some kind of spring mechanism I would think. When the mud on the barricade was disturbed it sent a bolt into his throat." Grey Worm replied.

"I guess we should return to clearing the barricade. I just hope there are no more traps within it." He said.

"There might be another option worth trying." She said, noting how worried the soldiers looked about continuing the work.

"Move back from the barricade, all of you. A good bit back." She told the soldiers. They backed away, she and Grey Worm following suite.

"Drogon!" She called out when she was satisfied that everyone was sufficiently far away, and the dragon stirred at the sound of his name.

"Dracarys!" The Queen said, pointing at the barricade. With a deep rumble Drogon drew a breath and unleashed a jet of flame at the mound. Even at a distance the heat was intense making everyone except Daenerys shield their faces from the flames. Everything flammable within the mound caught fire in an instant, while the pressure from the continuous stream of fine pushed the mound over, clearing the obstacle in their path in a matter of moments. What was left was a thin layer of debris and small fires that soon guttered out for lack of fuel.

"That was… efficient." Grey Worm said.

"Yeah. I just wish I had thought to do that from the first. There might be four less dead people today." She said, bowing her head.

"But it will end here. This trickery worked on us this time, but it will not work a second time." Then she straightened her back a look of determination in her eyes.

"Tell our forces to double check the area where barricade was to ensure there are no more surprises for us. Then get them moving forward without further delay. I'll ride ahead with Drogon as we march and destroy any other obstacles in our path. But be on the lookout for other kind of tricks and ambushes along the way. I'm starting to think anything could happen. We need to be prepared for that." She said in a businesslike tone.

"Understood Your Grace. I'll get our troops moving again." Grey Worm said with a nod. "Before you leave with Drogon you should get those cuts looked over." He added, pointing at her face.

Puzzled, she brought he hand to her forehead, surprised when her hand came back bloody. In the past few adrenaline filled moments it had been easy to ignore the pain from those cuts. Now that the situation was calming down they were entering her field of attention again.

"They don't feel serious, but all right. I doubt it will take long. But then I must be off. The North requires our aid and we mustn't tarry in getting to them." She said.

"Very good Your Grace. Once we arrive at Moat Cailin we will need to make a plan for the siege. That will be a difficult battle for us, but if the Orlesians could manage it, so can we." He said.

"There will be no siege. We don't have time for that. As soon as we get that far I intend to destroy the castle so we can get by more quickly." She said with a shake of her head.

Grey Worm gave her a surprised look. She had spoken nothing of this in the recent days. "My Queen, Moat Cailin is critical to the defense of the North. King Jon will not be happy if you destroy it." He said.

"He will like it far less if we do not reach him in time because we were held up. If necessary I'll make it up to him later on. That castle burns." She said.

"Understood my Queen." He said.

Daenerys turned back towards the camp to look for a healer to see to her injuries. Drogon, seeing that he was not needed took to the air, to return to her when she needed to ride him next.

"I'm coming Jon. Hold on just a little while longer. I'm coming. I'll save you." Daenerys thought as she walked.

* * *

**Days later... **

"So I understand that you will be leaving us, My Lord?" Major General Yann Robespierre asked as he walked to Lord Kronos in the yard of Moat Cailin.

"Marshal de Rozien has requested my presence, and that of my army. Most of my troops are already on their way to him, and now I must join them." Andharr replied as he oversaw the saddling of his horse.

"I understand. I have as many soldiers with me as could be fitted inside the walls, but the rest of my division has been recalled to the main army as well." Robespierre said.

"Hopefully those numbers will be adequate for your efforts." Lord Kronos said, then mounted his horse. "Good luck to you in defending this castle, Major General. I'll pass your regards to the Marshal. And Major General, might I make a request of you? Destroy the Queen. Destroy her pet monster. Destroy her armies so your Empire can bring her kingdom to its knees. That it is what I will ask the Marshal to give me, the price I want the Dragon Queen to pay for taking my son from me. I would ask the same of you." He added darkly.

"A tall order, but Maker willing the Grand Army will be able to give you exactly that. I and my soldiers will do everything in our power to help that along. You have my word on that." Robespierre said.

"Thank you. Take care." Lord Kronos said. Then he and his entourage of personal guards rode out through the northern gate, heading to Winterfell.

Some moments later Aldéric came to the Major General. _**"Ser, I have a report on the status of the device. It has now been installed and is ready to be activated as soon as it is required. I also came to deliver you a warning about it, one that needs to be brought to the attention of everyone else in the castle. Once it has been activated no one except mages should attempt to approach the device. At close proximity it emits intense cold, enough to quickly kill an individual that has not been prepared properly. We mages have means to get close to it safely, so we will attend to whatever maintenance it should need."**_

"_**Very well. I'll get the word out. Doubt many would want to get close anyway. Magic creeps them out. But if you need anything from us, tell me, and I shall see to it that you get it." **_Robespierre said.

"_**Thank you. Meanwhile, as you requested, the mages that could be spared have been deployed to the towers, ready to provide fire support. I will be joining them myself when the enemy arrives." **_Alderic continued.

"_**Good, good. I only hope your device works as intended." **_Robespierre said.

"_**Have faith, ser. The device is the product of some of the finest minds in the circle. Our theories and the construction of the design have been checked and re-checked hundreds of times over. It will work. I'd stake my life on it." **_Alderic said confidently.

"_**You will have to. As must we all. If the device works it will allow us to hold for a very long time thanks to the terrain of this place and our own preparations. If not we could all be dead in a matter of minutes. So faith, as it happens, is all that we have right now. I acknowledge that your device and the theories relating to it have been verified thoroughly and I appreciate that. But the device has never been tested in field conditions. Until that has been accomplished you'll forgive me if I do not give you a full vote of confidence."**_ Robespierre replied. Then he noticed one of his soldiers running across the yard to him. In front of him the soldiers and saluted.

"_**Ser, outer sentries report forward elements of the enemy have been spotted on approach. The dragon is with them." **_The soldier said.

"_**Very well. All soldiers are to report to battlestations immediately. Recall all the teams we have working outside the walls at once. Even if their tasks are incomplete they are to drop everything and return." **_Robespierre commanded.

The soldier saluted and went to relay the Major General's orders.

"_**First Enchanter, have the device powered on the double, then get to your post." **_Robespierre told the mage. Aldéric nodded and left as well.

"_**The moment of truth."**_ Robespierre thought, looking around himself as the castle became alive with soldiers rushing to get to their positions.

* * *

**A while later... **

"At last, here we are." Daenerys thought, immensely relieved, as she flew high above Moat Cailin. The journey to get this far over the past few days had proven arduous. Their path had indeed been blocked by more barricades, each of which had been destroyed by her. The traps dug directly into the road had proven to be more problematic. Sometimes her soldiers spotted the disturbed earth and were able to stop the marching column in time. More often these traps were not spotted until someone stepped on them, causing casualties among the tightly packed marching units. Afterwards any remaining traps had to be located and dug up before the march could continue, which was dangerous work and took considerable time. Going around was never an option, since the terrain continued to be horrible and the enemy had consistently laid more traps on the sides of the roads. Any forward progression required them to remain on the road, which on the other hand meant that even the tiniest interruption could stop the entire army.

Even worse, after the first days of entering these forsaken marshlands the raids against her army had started anew. Orlesian soldiers unlike any they had encountered hit her army with five to ten man squads, appearing seemingly out of nowhere. They picked off a handful of soldiers with arrows before disappearing like specters. A part of her had wanted to resume patrolling the army's route with Drogon, but she had thought it best to focus on forward progress. And finding such small groups of people with a dragon would have been challenging anyway. Fortunately those small groups meant that the damage they could cause was fairly limited. Even so it was one more reason her army could not stay here.

All these delays and interruptions had made her frustrated and angry, frequently snapping at her advisors when she had had to stop to rest, burning with the knowledge that time was running short. She regretted her outbursts of course, knowing that her advisors were not to blame and deserved better from her. But the feelings of anxiety had simply refused to leave her during these past few days. Nonetheless she had vowed to apologize when her army got out of this place.

Her moods along with the mood of everyone else had been made all the worse by the fact that there was no real room here to set up a proper camp. Beyond the narrow road the terrain was a treacherous quagmire where tents could not be set up, let alone any other structures. Most of them had been forced to sleep on the ground. In the narrow confines of the road communications had been difficult, ensuring that supplies could get from one end of the column to another was even harder. How the Orlesians had managed to take Moat Cailin at all she did not know, but she suspected that the answer lay in the torn down remnants of wooden platforms built on stilts she observed near the castle as she flew.

Fortunately and at long last the nightmare of passing through this area was coming to an end. Now only this final obstacle stood between her and leaving this miserable place behind. Then there would be no more delays in getting to the ones she cared about, no more worrying whether she might arrive too late.

She directed Drodon to a descent, heading straight for the castle. As she approached enemy archers began to send arrows at her dragon, but she paid this little mind. Arrow fire could not penetrate the Drogon's hide. She herself was a small and hard to spot target by comparison, and encased in high quality armor besides.

In moments she was in range to strike. "Dracarys!" She shouted and from Drogon's mouth flames departed towards the wall, the enemy soldiers seeking shelter.

Then the most unexpected thing happened. Less than fifty meters from the castle's walls the flames stopped, hitting a clear bubble-shaped barrier that there had been no evidence of some moments earlier. The flames skidded along the surface like water on glass. And where they touched the barrier the flames turned blue and promptly vanished. Daenerys and her dragon flew over the castle spewing more flame as they went. But as they passed she realized that the castle was completely unscathed, her attack having no effect whatsoever.

"What?" Daenerys breathed, utterly stunned. What was this? What had just happened? How could this be?

Turning around in the air Daenerys headed back for another attempt. Along the way she began to feel a strange tingle in the air, prickling at her skin. Sensing immediate danger she made Drogon do a sharp turn I to the right. And not a moment too soon. For just at that moment a forked tongue of lightning shot upwards from one of the towers, only barely missing her and Drogon, making her gasp in surprise. The noise made by the lightning was deafening and as it dissipated it left behind a scent of ozone. Other magical attacks began to fly at them. A ball of blue light impacted against Drogons neck not far from where she was sitting, bringing with it a wave of bitter cold and making Drogon give an annoyed growl. As the light dissipated patches of ice were left behind, shortly breaking up ad falling off from the motions of Drogon's neck.

Bringing Drogon back around from the sharp turn, Daenerys circled around the castle, unleashing more flames against it. As before the flames impacted against an invisible barrier, turned blue and vanished, causing no damage. This time she happened to catch a glimpse of blue light coming from somewhere deep inside of the castle, one that grew and faded in concert with Drogon's breaths of fire. Realizing that her attacks were ineffective and staying here would only pointlessly endanger her and Drogon she retreated, heading back towards her army.

On her way back she could barely wrap her head around what had happened. It was so unthinkable… Drogon stood defeated, rendered harmless by this defense the Orlesians had put up. This… was not something she was used to. Indeed, until now something like this had only happened once before, and then against the supernatural threat of the Night King when dragonfire had failed to kill him, never against mere men. With a single move the enemy had completely altered the rules of this situation.

This had been her only plan to get her army past this obstacle quickly, and it had failed. Suddenly she did not know what to do. And that was a sensation she hated more than anything else.

Should she leave her army behind after all? But what would happen to them if she did that? And for all she knew her enemies had this same defense with them wherever they went. Furthermore that strike of lightning had almost got her. Had it connected it might well have killed her, perhaps even Drogon, and no doubt these Thedosians had more from where that came from. With that she was once again reminded how dangerous it might be to engage them without support. But Jon needed her, and soon…

If things didn't change, she might have to chance it…


	38. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37; A strange curse;**

**Characters of the chapter**

**Agatha, **Bard of Orlais

**Alerie, **Bard of Orlais

**Brienne of Tarth **Knight of the Twin Kingdoms

**Bronn Blackwater, **Lord of Highgarden, Lord Paramount of the Reach

**Jaime Lannister, **Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West

**Podric Payne, **Knight of the Twin Kingdoms, formerly squire to Brienne of Tarth

**Roslin Tully, **Lady of Riverrun, widow to Edmure Tully, the former Lord of Riverrun

**Ser Kenton, **Knight in the service of House Kronos

_**Cursive/Bold text is in Orlesian**_

"This is damn peculiar." Jaime said, rubbing his chin. He was now staring at Riverrun, the Lannister and Reach armies arrayed behind him.

"The castle appears to be completely deserted." Podrick commented at his side.

"It does. At first glance. But the drawbridge is raised and the moat is full. It's as if the castle is ready for battle. How or why would that be if the castle had been abandoned?" Jaime said.

"And yet… there's no movement on the walls. No banners. If this castle is prepared for a siege, where are all the defenders?" Brienne joined in.

"Isn't it possible to escape Riverrun by boat?" Bronn asked.

"It is. But that still leaves a lot of questions." Jaime said. "If his people were in control of the castle and decided to leave why not just walk through the front door?"

"Perhaps Lord Edmure's people weren't in control of the castle then? The survivors from House Sea were fleeing in this direction. Maybe they came here?" Podrick suggested.

"Could be. But where are they all now? And if they had Riverrun and decided they couldn't hold it, why did they leave the castle locked up before leaving?" Jaime asked.

"Maybe to mess with us, and make it that much harder to take the castle back?" Brienne offered.

"Or maybe they're just hiding?" Bronn said.

"Maybe, maybe…" Jaime, said thoughtful. Then he gave a shake of his head. "Well, we're not going to solve this staring at the castle all the way over here. Lord Bronn, if you wouldn't mind watching over my troops for a moment while Brienne, Podric and I go to take a closer look?"

"Sure." Bronn said.

Brienne meanwhile turned to one of the Lannister commanders nearby. "Call up a company of archers to come with us as we investigate." She told him. "Just in case the castle really isn't abandoned, like Bronn guessed." She then explained to Jaime.

The commander turned to Jaime for confirmation of the order, him being the general of the Lannister army after all. Jaime nodded to him and the commander moved to carry out the order at once. Once the archers were assembled the trio of them set off toward the castle in a slow trot, the company of soldiers jogging beside them to keep up. At a safe distance from Riverrun's walls they paused and dismounted, handing the reins to some of the soldiers that were with them, and walked the rest of the way. At the edge of the moat they stopped looking up at the battlements, while the archers waited further back, nocking arrows to their bows. Still they could not see any movement.

"Hello! Is there anyone there!?" Jaime decided to shout in the absence of better ideas about what to do. He received no response to his to his shout.

* * *

As the trio were trying to figure out how best to approach their investigation, the current occupants of Riverrun were lurking behind the crenellations, taking care to make no noises or show their head above the battlements. They were a motley crew of bards, knights of House Kronos, surviving soldiers from House Sea and bribed guards that had formerly belonged to House Tully who had not had anywhere else to go under the current circumstances. There were only some hundreds of them, far outnumbered by the army now parked outside their gates.

"Doesn't look like they're leaving." Kenton said in a low voice. The hope had been that if their enemies saw no activity at the castle they would decide there was nothing there worth their time and would move on. Apparently luck was not with them on that.

"No. It doesn't look like they are." Agatha replied equally as quietly, cursing in her mind. "But we still have the element of surprise. Let's make the best of it."

"I recognize the man in the middle. The one with the golden hand. Jaime Lannister. Lord of Casterly Rock, and Warden of the West." Kenton said.

"So an important fellow then? And probably their general too." Agatha contemplated.

"Ma'am? I could…?" Alerie said, raising her crossbow a fraction.

Agatha considered. "Do it. Another Lord for you. But you will only get one shot. Don't miss." She then said with a nod.

"Why? I have archers in my command. They can…" Kenton argued.

"She is better than any of them. And less likely to be spotted before she fires. More sure to result in a kill. Let her make her attempt first. But be ready." Agatha countered.

Kenton grimaced with displeasure, but nodded. Agatha nodded to Alerie again. The elf loaded her weapon, then cautiously peered over the battlements, quickly dropping herself back.

"Left from the stone in the moat…" She whispered to herself, eyes closed in concentration. Then, in a flurry of motion her eyes opened, she stood up, aimed quickly and loosed the bolt.

By some stroke of fortune Podrick happened to be looking at exactly the right section of the wall at exactly the right time, seeing the bolt take flight. "Look out!" He shouted, giving Jaime a sharp shove to the shoulder, pushing him to the ground. Podrick screamed as the bolt pierced his arm. But if not for the shove he had given that bolt would have been embedded in Jaime's throat instead.

"Bloody incompetents!" Kenton snarled and turned to his archers.

* * *

"Podrick!" Brienne yelled, going to his aid. Podrick was groaning, the pain making him double over, his other hand grasping the bolt that had punctured his arm just below the wrist.

"Archers, shoot, shoot, shoot!" Jaime shouted, still on the ground, motioning furiously at the castle. The Lannister archers raised their bows and sent a cloud of arrows towards the walls.

* * *

"Archers! Nock! Draw!" Kenton was shouting at his own bowmen at that same moment. He was about to give the order loose when he saw that the Lannister archers had managed it before him.

"Down! Down! Take cover!" Kenton screamed. He and the other people on the wall hid behind the crenellations again, hugging the stones that arrows were now clattering against. A few of the archers that had been preparing to fire weren't quick enough to follow the given order and were slain. By the time the arrows stopped flying Brienne, Jaime and Podric had managed to make it out of easy reach of arrow fire. Brienne led Podrickin the direction of the main group of the army to have his wound seen to, while Jaime remained with the archers. Meanwhile Agatha, realizing that the rain of arrows had ceased, grabbed Alerie by the shoulder and slammed her against the crenellations, making the elf gasp is surprise.

"_**The next time I tell you not to miss… don't. Miss." **_Agatha hissed, pissed off that Alerie had messed matters up yet again, even more so because in so doing so the elf had managed to embarrass her in front of Kenton.

"**Not my fault. The bolt travelled where I intended it to go. But the conditions on the receiving end changed. I have no control over those. No one could have done better." **Alerie argued coolly, defiance in her eyes.

Agatha looked sour, but she had to concede that the other woman had a point. Eventually she sighed reluctantly and nodded, releasing the elf from her grip.

"Every time you are put in charge of something it seems to backfire most spectacularly. I don't even know why I bother with you people anymore." Kenton grumbled as he walked to them.

"Because you know you need us. Without our contributions your odds of survival are even worse than they are now." Agatha replied, turning to him.

"You let her get away with murdering Lord Edmure. Now she has failed again, and this time it has cost me the lives of some of my men. I demand that you correct the mistake you made in letting her live the first time! I want her head for this!" Kenton said, pointing at Alerie.

"You don't get to make that kind of demands of me." Agatha said, moving closer to the knight. "That choice is mine alone to make, and there are far too few of us here for us to start slaughtering us over the mistakes we make. I have told you before, I do not interfere with your people and I will not have you interfering with mine. You will not lay a finger on her without getting permission from me first."

Kenton glared at both women, but backed off, going to talk to his people. Meanwhile Alerie smiled, glad that despite her disappointment Agatha was keeping her side when it came to the Westerosi. The two of them might not always see eye to eye, but at least her Bardmaster was loyal to the people she commanded, including Alerie.

"Bring Lady Roslin here. It is time to try our other plan." Agatha told Alerie.

* * *

While this was happening Jaime was discussing the situation with the sergeant of the archer company. One of the archers had already been sent back to tell his army to make camp and start making preparations for a siege. Now Jaime was trying to wrap his head around the situation he now faced. Brienne soon returned to him as well.

"How's Podrick doing?" Jaime asked of her.

"As well as can be hoped. His wound was seen to and there's no immediate danger anymore I'm told. But he took a pretty bad hit, and unfortunately to his sword arm. It will have to be treated just right or he will end up losing it" She replied.

"I'll have my Maester tend to him. At my expense, of course. Seems like the least I can do to as thanks for saving my life. That bolt was meant for me after all." Jaime decided.

"Well, there are certainly people inside Riverrun, and they are certainly not happy to see us. But why? Is the castle under enemy occupation, or was this just a misunderstanding?" He pondered aloud.

"Well unless we learn otherwise it looks like we are going to have to besiege this castle. Again…" Jaime said dryly.

"Again, My Lord?" The Sergeant asked, surprised at his tone.

"This happens to be the fourth time I have dad to do this." Jaime explained. "The first time was just at the beginning of the War of the Five Kings. That whole business ended with my army scattered, and me captured by the soon to be King in the North, Robb Stark."

"From that began a chain of events that cost me a hand, and many more things over the years… but it gained me something else. Something that at first I was not smart enough to appreciate, but eventually I came to see that it was the most precious thing that I could ever have found." He continued, giving Brienne a warm look, making her blush and smile shyly.

"The second case was the one I was involved with, isn't it?" Brienne said, trying to sound formal, although a redness lingered on her cheeks.

"Yes, the time I was to take the castle from the Tully's and deliver it to House Frey. Hmmh, nasty business that, I ended up saying and doing things I regretted later in life, but at least I succeeded in taking the castle without a lot of casualties for either side. After that events managed to conspire in a way that I had to take the castle yet again, this time in the name of King Jon and Queen Daenerys. In a delicious bit of irony I ended up taking the castle away from the Freys and giving it right back to the Tullys. And that time sadly was far bloodier. I can only be thankful for Lord Edmure for helping me. His knowledge went a long way in limiting the lives lost." He continued.

"And now I'm here yet again, doing the same thing all over." He said, his tone turning playful. "I'm starting to think I'm somehow cursed, forced to spend the rest of my days laying siege to the same old castle over and over."

"That would be a very strange curse, Jaime." Brienne said, and the two couldn't help but have a laugh over the matter.

It was then his musings were interrupted by movement on the wall, the levity of the moment passing as quickly as it had come.

"Hold." Jaime said holding up his remaining hand just as the archers were about to fire again. He had noticed that the movement came from a white, featureless banner being raised over the battlements.

"Are they surrendering?" The Sergeant asked.

"They aren't opening their gates… my guess is no. But apparently they wish to parlay with us." Jaime said. Moments later a figure appeared atop the wall. Squinting, Jaime thought he could recognize who it was.

"…Lady Roslin? Curious." Jaime said, then moved to his horse still being kept nearby.

"You're going to go there again aren't you? I don't think you should. Considering what just happened, this could be another trick."Brienne said, guessing his intent.

"We have to understand what is going on. Lady Roslin might be one of the only people that might give us some much needed answers. And if the ones occupying the castle want to treat with us we might as well hear what they have to say." Jaime said.

"You could send someone else. Bronn perhaps?" Brienne tried to suggest.

"I'm the commander of this army, and the one who will have command of the siege I'm the one with the authority to treat with them. It's my responsibility. And it's not right for me to ask Bronn to take this risk if I wouldn't, not to mention there's nothing I could say or do to make him do this. In his heart he is still a sellsword, which means he won't take chances he considers unnecessary. If I want answers I'll have to do this myself." He explained.

"At least let me come with you when you go." She tried again.

"You being there won't make difference, and there's no sense in putting both of us in danger. And I'll need you alive to lead my army… in case." He countered. "If it comes to that, can you do that for me?" He asked.

Brienne wanted to continue arguing, but realized there was no turning Jaime's head. She nodded reluctantly.

"Thank you Brienne." Jaime said quietly.

"I need you to keep your troops ready. If anyone other than the Lady show up on the wall, shoot them." Jaime told the Sergeant.

"Very good My Lord. We'll keep you well protected, you'll see." The sergeant replied.

"…I hope you won't need the instructions, but in case you do I want to make it known that my final orders to my army will be to take this castle. The safety of Lord Edmure and his family is paramount. If they are alive they are to be set free from any state of confinement they might be under and restored as the ruling family of Riverrun. You may follow your own judgment on how to deal with the remaining occupants in the castle, but the enemies of The Twin Kingdoms should not be allowed to escape." He told Brienne after a moment of hesitation. Considering the possibility of his own death wasn't a topic he delighted in discussing. For all his thoughts about fading away he was not interested in having his life ended just yet. Not while he still had things to live for. But Brienne had been right. This could be a trick, and so he needed to consider all possibilities.

"I understand." Brienne said, putting on a brave face, but Jaime could see the hidden look of concern in her eyes. She too was reluctant to consider the possibility of his death it seemed. As he started is way towards the castle he spared a thought on how, despite his many regrets and bouts of brooding and self-loathing, he was a very fortunate man. To have found someone to love that cared for him so. Before her he had never had that, although at times he had thought he did. He still thought he didn't really deserve to have that, yet all the same it was his. He only hoped he could do enough to reciprocate that love. She deserved nothing less.

Finally Jaime stopped before the walls of Riverrun, just in front of the Moat, close enough for words to be exchanged without difficulty. He chose to remain on horseback so he could get away quickly if things went sour. Directing his eyes to the battlements he could see that Lady Roslin was apparently unhurt, but looked sad and defeated. Jaime had seen that look before. Edmure had had that look when he had sent him inside this very castle years ago to make the garrison yield. It was the look of submission, of yielding to an unpleasant task under duress. That look alone gave him cause for concern.

"Lord Jaime." She greeted him.

"Lady Roslin." Jaime responded. "Before we begin, I'm sure you have others there with you. They should not show themselves. My soldiers have been instructed to fire the moment anyone besides you does so." He added as Roslin was about to speak again, nodding behind him at the company of Lannister archers.

"I understand My Lord. As do the others." Roslin replied.

"Would you mind explaining what has happened here?" He asked.

Roslin turned her head to look at Agatha, who was currently hidden from Jaime's view. The bard nodded to the other woman.

"I regret to tell you that Riverrun has been seized by forces loyal to the Orlesian Empire. My family has been taken captive by them." Roslin said.

Jaime nodded as gravely. "I thought that might be the case after the reception I got. But I must admit I'm surprised to see that it is you who is here to greet me. Where is Lord Edmure? I would speak with him about this turn of events."

Rosling glanced at Agatha again, and this time the bard shook her head.

"I… I'm afraid my husband is unwell. He is unable to come speak with you. For the time being I will speak for my family." Roslin said, forcing back the tears that were welling in her eyes.

"However, the safety of my family has been guaranteed for the time being. But the presence of your army is the most immediate threat to that guarantee. As such I must insist that your army depart the vicinity of this castle immediately and leave us in peace." She told him, adopting a formal tone.

Jaime shook his head, sighing. So that was the reason behind her expression. Her family had knives to their throats. "I understand your reasons for giving that command, but I'm afraid I cannot do as you ask My Lady. My orders were to investigate what had transpired at this castle, and to reclaim this place if necessary. That necessity has arisen."

"I cannot permit you to put the life of my son in danger! This castle and its attendant lands are the property of House Tully. It is we who decide who is allowed to be here. You and your army are trespassing, and on those grounds I command your army to depart immediately! You will not be permitted to enter. Any attempt to force your way in will be met with resistance and will be done without my blessing because what you will endanger. I say again, leave immediately!" She said, trying to sound stern but clearly scared of something.

"Just your son? No mention of your husband? Hmm, could be just a slip of the tongue, but that seems to confirm what I suspected. Unwell indeed…" Jaime thought to himself.

"I regret that our actions may put your family at risk. You have my word that my forces will be instructed not to harm them. If your captors fail to do the same I will promise you justice at the end of this. But this castle is part of the South Kingdom. We cannot allow foreign adversaries to remain in control of it not even under conditions such as this. We are here by the authority of Queen Daenerys. Her orders outrank yours, particularly as you are a prisoner and so unable to give a command that could be considered valid. Unless your captors surrender we will be forced to take action. I am truly sorry." He said aloud, then turned his around and galloped away as fast as possible in case someone was tempted to shoot him in the back.

* * *

"My Lady, please. I tried to convince him to go away. I did my best, but he wouldn't listen. Please do not harm…" Roslin pleaded back at the wall.

"Shush!" Agatha said impatiently, holding up her hand, not turning her attention from watching the Lannister Lord ride away.

"I'm satisfied with your performance. You did your best. I'll keep my word to you as long as that continues to be the case." Agatha said then.

"Thank you My Lady." Roslin said, overcome with relief.

"Take the Lady back to her rooms. If she wants to see her son I'll permit a one hour visit today." Agatha told some of her bards.

"Surprise, surprise, your schemes prove useless yet again. So now what?" Kenton said, walking over as the Lady of Riverrun was escorted away.

"Now? Now we hold." Agatha replied.

* * *

When Jaime got back to the army he found Brienne and Bronn waiting for him. He smiled at her, a smile which she immediately returned, relieved.

"So?" Bronn asked.

"Riverrun's in enemy hands, no question. They didn't admit it directly, but I have reason to believe Lord Edmure is dead. Lady Roslin is obviously still alive, as is her son." Jaime replied, his expression turning serious.

"It will be a siege then?" Bronn asked.

"For the Lannister forces. Yours are still needed with the Queen." Jaime said.

"Are you sure? I think you could use us." Bronn said.

"Our forces will be sufficient, and she needs you more. Even if we can't take the castle by assault there will be more than enough of us to keep them bottled inside until reinforcements become available."

"I think I'd prefer a nice, quiet siege myself. But oh alright…" Bronn said and rode off.

Jaime meanwhile turned his eyes back towards Riverrun, the castle his army would now have to lay siege to.

"Yet. Again." He muttered dryly.


	39. Chapter 38

**Chapter 38; Demands of surrender;**

**Characters of the chapter:**

**Alexander de Rozien, **Chevalier of Orlais, Marshal of the Grand Army of Orlais, Supreme commander of the Orlesian invasion of Westeros.

**Davos Seaworth **Knight of Westeros, Advisor to King Jon

**Edmond Brahms, **Knight of Nevarra, Military advisor to the court of King Jon

**Jon Snow, **also known as Aegon Targaryen and Jon Stark, King of the North Kingdom of the Twin Kingdoms

**Sansa Stark, **Lady of Winterfell and the Eyrie**, **Wardeness of the North.

**Ynessa des Montagnes, **Chevalier of Orlais, Duelling Champion to de Rozien, Chosen Sword of Orlais.

Jon continued to stare over the battlements, where a city of tents had grown to existence, illuminated by the morning sun. The first Orlesian units had arrived during the night, their coming heralded by torches. Jon had considered sending skirmishing forces against these scouting parties but had decided against it knowing that he had few enough troops already and that the main Orlesian force was likely right at the heels of the scouts. And so they had watched as the enemy had poured in through the night. The enemy rear guard and the baggage train were still arriving, new tents rising up even as he watched. Everyone at Winterfell had slept lightly during the night, fearful of a surprise attack. Jon and a small force of guards had not slept at all.

The tent city the Orlesians was well ordered, wide straight streets separating blocks of white tents. The Orlesian flag was in evidence everywhere inside the camp, adding splashes of blue among the whiteness, while smoke from thousands of cookfires darkened the skies. The tents came to an abrupt halt just outside arrow range where the Orlesian engineers where building a barricade of earth and sharpened stakes intended to encircle the camp. Wooden watchtowers were rising on the perimeter at regular intervals, and more where the streets of the camp city crossed.

"That's a lot of Orlesians." Edmond said as he joined Jon on the battlements.

"There are. But as long as they are on the other side of the wall, that's all right." Jon replied. "Do you think we can keep it that way?" He asked.

"For a time, perhaps, if we play our cards right, and the enemy behaves as we expect them to." Edmond answered.

"And assuming that Kieran's notion of shielding the castle from magic works as intended. There are a few too many ifs in this situation for my liking." Jon said "But as ever we fight with what we have. If these scum want Winterfell they shall find that the price is heavy indeed." Jon said, his tone defiant.

"My King, a single rider approaching!" A lookout called just then, pointing outside the walls. Edmond and Jon both directed their gaze to where the lookout was pointing, seeing an Orlesian soldier on horseback standing on open ground, unfurling a white banner with no sigil.

"A banner of truce? Curious. It seems that now of all times the Orlesians want to talk." Edmond said.

"Could be a trick." Jon commented.

"Could be." Edmond agreed. "But just as easily this could be genuine. If so it might reflect poorly on us to reject attempts at diplomacy."

Jon considered what to do for a time. "We will meet with them, but we will be taking precautions when we do. We go with guards, and we will go no further than halfway across the killing field. If f they attempt treachery, our archers shall see them feathered with arrows for it.

The King turned to one of his soldiers: "Find Lady Sansa. Tell her…"

"There is no need to look form me. I am right here, and I will be coming with you." Jon heard Sansa say. He turned and saw her walk up to the battlements, with Davos right at her heels.

"I don't think it's a good idea for both of us to go." Jon tried to protest.

"I am the Wardeness of the North and the Lady of Winterfell. If there are to be discussions about the fate of this place, I'd like to be there. I'm willing to take the risk." Sansa said firmly.

Jon opened his mouth to protest, then thought better of it.

"Edmond, you're in charge of the castle while we are out there. Post more archers on the walls and be ready to act if the Orlesians try anything. If we don't come back, defend this castle to the last. Davos, you're with us."

"I understand Your Grace. I shall do my best. Good luck to you." Edmond said. He too would have wanted to go with the King, but he had given a command, and so he had to follow it. In his mind he wondered if the command to remain within the castle had somehow been motivated by his hesitation in previous battles. Then he pushed those concerns aside. Their position was difficult enough as it is without adding imagined slights among their own into the mix.

Jon, Davos and Sansa had horses saddled and rode out through the main gates accompanied by an escort of a dozen Stark guardsmen. They crossed the wooden bridge crossing the trench running around Winterfell. Halfway across the maximum range of their archers they stopped and waited. Eventually an entourage of Orlesians roughly as large as the Westerosi group rode out to meet them. To avoid an incident the soldiers of both sides hanged back while the leaders of both sides met at the center.

"I am Marshal Alexander de Rozien, the commander of this army. Under the authority of Emperor Gaspard of Orlais, the Grand Army of the Empire demands that you surrender yourself, this castle along with its garrison and occupants, and your kingdom."

"This is impossible, as you well know." Jon said, his tone icy.

"Be sensible Your Grace. This war is over. Your lords have scattered to the winds, along with their armies. Your position here is hopeless, even with your castle. For every soldier that you have I have forty. Queen Daenerys and her army are trapped below the neck, she cannot help you. You have fought well, honor has been more than satisfied. So would say any soldier in my army. But now it is time to concede defeat and end this bloodshed with your honor still intact. You will find my terms agreeable." Alexander said.

"And what terms might those be?" Jon asked.

"Upon your surrender you shall be provided a manor in the Orlesian countryside, just outside the capital. There you shall have access to extensive grounds and servants to look after your every need. Your treatment will be in accordance to your position as a king. The members of your family that are here will be permitted to come with you, and once the Queen has capitulated you will be reunited with your remaining family. Meanwhile the governance of your country will be given over to someone the Emperor feels is appropriate to hold such a position. Your lords will be given an option to swear fealty to the Emperor or follow you to exile in Orlais." The Marshal explained.

"As for your forces here, those of noble birth will turn themselves in for later ransom. Of the rest I will ask what I have asked of other prisoners we have captured: that they turn over their weapons and armor, and that they swear an oath to never return to battle under the command of any enemy of Orlais. After that they will be free to return home to their families." He continued.

"Your nation sent infiltrators to this castle. Ones that almost killed me and the crown prince. Many more _did_ die in our defense. At the moment we do not put much stock in any of your promises." Sansa said in accusation.

The Marshall sighed. "If indeed such a thing was ordered, which I do not confirm or deny, it would have been a strategy of war. That war is now coming to a close. After your surrender there shall be no further cause to inflict harm upon you."

"On my honor I swear it to be true. In the name of the Maker and His prophet Andraste I vow that neither the king nor any of his kin shall come to harm should they choose to surrender to our forces. And there it is. A Chevalier's word is his honor, and his honor is his life. In front of witnesses I have taken a holy vow. In accordance with the Chevalier code I cannot break that vow without dishonoring myself and my family in the eyes of all of Orlais. A more potent assurance than that I cannot give." He declared.

Jon took a deep breath. "These are indeed generous conditions, and I thank you for them. However… I am a King, responsible for the peoples of this land. For their sake I cannot accept you terms. For the sake of this kingdom I am compelled to resist you until the end."

"Whether you fight us or not the reality is that these people won't be your responsibility for very much longer. And while I would delight in facing you in honorable combat, I don't see the reason for you to give your life for a cause that is already lost." Ynessa said.

"And who might you be, to tell me so?" Jon asked of her.

"Ynessa des Montagnes, Chevalier and Chosen Sword of Orlais, and a Champion for the Marshal." She replied. "We have met before, or rather you shot an arrow at me." She added.

"And you're his Champion?" He asked, his eyes flashing with recognition.

"Yes. While the Marshal is a Chevalier as well, due to his advanced years it is no longer prudent for him to fight in a duel personally. Thus if someone issues a challenge, I will stand for him." She explained.

"Does this surprise you? I hear you have the same practice, when there is call for it. Perhaps you are merely surprised to see a woman in such a position, since it is so rare for women to fight in Westeros? If that is the case then all I can say is that I am a warrior, one that is yet to fail the Marshal." She added.

"I am less surprised than you might think. I have seen my share of fighting women." He said. "But to answer your question, this war is not over, not while I live and Winterfell remains in our hands. This place is my home, and I am ready to die here if need be."

"Perhaps you are ready to die. But are your soldiers?" The Marshal said. "If any of them wish to leave then I will allow it until the next sunrise, on the same conditions as I have already named. I would appreciate if you relayed these conditions to your troops for their consideration."

"Your generosity continues. I may do as you have asked." Jon said with a nod.

"Our siege will begin at sunrise tomorrow." The Marshal stated matter-of -factly. Return to me before then and I give you my word to honor the terms that I have named. After sunrise, however, we are compelled to seek your destruction. We will offer you no quarter."

"Then we shall not ask for one. My answer will not change. And our talks are at an end." Jon said, beginning to turn his horse around to leave.

"That is unfortunate indeed. I hope you see reason yet, and do the right thing. Many lives depend on it, on both sides." The Marshal said to the King before riding away. Ynessa lingered on for a while longer, facing the King.

"I look forward to facing you in combat, Your Grace. I have heard impressive stories. I trust you will not disappoint me." She said to him before riding away.

"I'm going to wipe that insufferable smirk right out of her face." Jon muttered as he watched the Orlesians ride back to their camp.

"What smirk? She was wearing a mask." Davos asked, confused.

"She was. And she was smirking behind it." Jon said like it was self-evident. "But enough of that. Opinions how we will go about telling the troops about this offer the Marshal made to them?" He asked as he turned his horse back toward Winterfell.

"We won't." Sansa said at once.

"Excuse me?" Jon asked, unsure if he had heard Sansa correctly.

"We can't tell them. We dare not." Sansa said again.

"His offer might actually be genuine, My Lady. For an Orlesian he seems a decent sort. And common soldiers do not matter to him enough for him to betray them." Davos said.

"It may well be genuine, Ser Davos. But just as easily this might be a trick to lure our forces into the open so he can destroy them without braving our fortifications. After everything they have done I have no faith in any promises made by the Orlesians, no matter how pretty words they use." Sansa replied. "And even if this offer is somehow honest, it doesn't matter. We still can't tell them." She added.

Both Jon and Davos stared at her, shocked at her cold, calculating manner.

"If we tell our soldiers about this offer, many will take it. We could lose as much as three quarters of our forces. With that kind of imbalance in numbers we won't have a chance of standing up to the Orlesians. And for every person that leaves our service there will be a dozen others who will start to think that perhaps the notion of Orlesian rule isn't such a bad thing. After all their friends and loved ones were permitted to return home by the Orlesians in exchange for a promise of peace. We can't allow that to happen. If it does we will lose our home, along with everything else we care about, and this time perhaps for good." She explained.

"You think so little of the people in our service?" Jon asked.

"Hardly. It's simple human instinct. People don't want to die for someone else's home, not when there is a way out. This situation is bad, and looks bad. Our people can't have missed that. The only way our people will stand and fight is if they believe that it's the only way they might live. Furthermore we need them desperate. With nothing left to lose they will fight that much harder, which will give us that much better chance of holding until help arrives." She said.

"You honestly expect me to lie to my men?" Jon said, incredulous.

"I only ask that you remain silent. You don't have to do so for long. By sunrise there will be only one choice for them. Jon, please, I know this makes you uncomfortable, but if we are serious about resisting the Orlesians, this is something we must do. And if not, go to the Marshal and surrender to him like he asked you to, while there is still time." She answered.

"It doesn't feel right… but in the end do we have a choice? If Lady Sansa is right about this and our people behave as she thinks they will…" Davos said hesitantly.

Jon didn't like at all what they were considering, although he could feel the truth in their words. "Even if I was willing to entertain that… what of the guards that accompany us? They may well have overheard the conversation." He asked.

"They can be sworn to secrecy. If you command them to be silent they are bound by duty to obey you. And if they fail to follow a direct order you are within your rights to penalize them. But hopefully it won't come to that. If you tell them that this is for the greater good, I think they will believe you." She said.

"So to keep my people fighting we have to keep the truth from them? I can't say I am fond of this." Jon said.

"We do what we have to do to survive. Otherwise we've already lost. Its ugly business, and not something I want to do, but that is where we stand. Surely you can see that?" Sansa said.

"I'm not sure that that makes it any better." Jon said. "Do you think the Marshal was telling the truth about the Queen?" he asked of Davos.

"I'm not sure. I think it entirely possible he was making that up to convince us to surrender." Davos replied.

"And if he was telling the truth?" Jon asked.

"Then we may have a problem." Davos said grimly.

Then the party rode through the gates of Winterfell, finding Edmond already waiting for them.

"So, how did it go?" Edmond asked of them.

"A lot of talk, a lot of demands that ultimately amounted to very little. The rest of it we should discuss somewhere more private. You should be in on the plan as well." Jon said, dismounting, handing the reins of his horse to a stable boy and leading Edmond in the direction of Winterfell's main hall.


	40. Chapter 39

**Chapter 39; Perils and foes;**

**Characters of the chapter**

**Flavius **Commander in the 5th expeditionary legion of Tevinter

**Iustinius **Soldier of the Tevinter Imperium

**Tiraen Tasvius **Venatori Agent, Magister of the Tevinter Imperium, ambassador to Meereen, commander of the 5th expeditionary legion of Tevinter, formerly apprentice to Magister Cato Argos

"Damnable thing. It feels like this is never going to end." Tiraen thought as she continued putting one foot before another, the other members of her team trailing just behind her. For a long time they had been trudging through this empty grey wasteland. She found herself missing the sights of grass and living trees and blue skies. Missing the sounds of singing birds. If not for the occasional fade crystal they encountered she felt as if she might forget the look of color green altogether.

"When we get back I'll spend some time in the garden I have in Meereen." She promised herself. "Maybe I'll have my bed moved there so I can sleep under the open skies while enjoying the comforts of a real bed. And good food, maybe a nice book to read."

"When you get home. *If* you get home." Some part of her said, though she dismissed that portion of herself almost immediately. Pessimism was perhaps about the last thing she needed right now.

By her estimates they had been here for two or three weeks now, but she could not be entirely sure of that, as the days had a nasty way on blending into one another here. The sun continued to hide its face behind a veil of smoke, and their environment only ever alternated between utter darkness and a pale dusk, making it that much harder to tell what time of day it was. At night there were no stars or moon, just darkness, an impenetrable shadow.

They had also discovered there was very little water here, which was both depressing and a practical concern for the team. It hadn't even rained in all the time they had been here. Evidently this had once been different based on the many dried rivers they had come across. The only source of water they had found were small ground pools here and there that were little more than puddles. Even then she wasn't certain that it the water they found would be safe to drink. For now their own supply was holding up, but sooner or later they might have to risk it.

"This is what the end of the world looks like." She thought bitterly. "This grey nothingness, drained of all color, drained of life, where the silence is deafening. If our world is ever to die then this is the appearance it will take. It seems this corner of the world simply jumpstarted itself to that end."

At this point she would have welcomed even battle to interrupt the drudgery of traversing this wasteland. But nothing had challenged them in the entire time they had been here. The further they progressed the more evidence they encountered of spirits, but it seemed her amulets had been a complete success. Not a single fade entity had challenged them in battle thus far. And if anything else lived here, they had yet to come across it.

Then again it had to be admitted this place was not completely devoid of happenings. But they were not the kind to lift a person's spirits.

Visions similar to the one they had come across when they had first entered these lands continued to appear as they traveled. Each of them told a tale similar to the first. Frightened people fleeing and hiding from the destruction that had destroyed their homes and upended their lives. They had their final moments and then death managed to claim them as well. The details changed from vision to vision, the end came in myriad different ways, but the final outcome never seemed to vary.

She was not one to truly care of people other than her own. After all, the Valyrians, if their people and their Empire still existed, would have doubtless been enemies of her Imperium, competitors for influence in this world. If they hadn't had the decency to destroy themselves the people of Tevinter would have inevitably had to attend to the downfall of the Valyrians. But even so she could not help but feel a little bit of sadness that this emptiness was their only legacy, aside from the few scattered fragments that existed in the wider world. If nothing else it was a massive waste. Who knows how many wonders had been destroyed utterly, or cast into darkness and forgotten by the great ignorance of the world? Truly she would be doing the Valyrians a great honor in salvaging a piece of their world for her use. She would save a piece of their legacy in the service of a living Empire, and in return that legacy would aid her people in overcoming their enemies. She did not yet know how exactly it might do so, but with the amount power she sensed she was certain that it could.

Maybe it was the environment, or maybe that was just one factor of many, but this place was starting to get to all of them. Ever so slowly it was seeping into their souls, filling them with melancholy, sapping their spirits. The team rarely spoke these days, travelling in brooding silence, only seeming to exchange the words to give or acknowledge orders, and to argue when they had too much time on their hands (which was most of the time) and the nature of this place got on their nerves.

For her the only thing that kept her moving forward was her goal. Every day that passed they drew nearer to their objective, the power she sensed acting as a beacon to draw them in, growing stronger the closer they got. The sooner they could reach it the better. Even as there was no danger here as of yet, a swift and successful resolution to their mission would be preferable.

As much as this place bothered her, she was aware that her people were more affected. They were loyal people, but they did not have her drive. They could not sense magic like she could, so they could not feel the closeness of their goal, how worth their efforts it would truly be when they go to it. They could only see the mountain which it she had _told _them was their objective. It was not the same thing. They could not even delight themselves by sensing the closeness of the fade, which was one of the few perks this place had going for it.

Now and then a few of her people had given voice to the idea of letting go of this mission and turning back. She had managed to quash the notion every time they had brought it up. So far the respect her soldiers had for her had been sufficient to make them continue to follow her orders despite their reservations. So far none had deserted either. But morale was slowly dwindling among the group, and if they all decided to quit the mission she would have no choice but to accept the will of the majority and turn back. Hopefully she would be able to keep that from happening. She was not willing to give up, not when they were so close, not when they stood to gain so much more.

They were exploring the edges of a ruined town, looking for a place to spend the night, when she happened upon a side building next to a larger structure. Glancing inside she saw that the room was bare save for the shackles attached to the walls.

"A slave pen." Tiraen guessed from the placement and size of the shackles. She had heard that the Valyrians kept slaves, much like her people. Most of the shackles had nothing attached to them but against one wall a skeleton sat, still held together by dry bits of flesh, a chain around its neck. To Tiraen's surprise the skeleton was armored in armor of red and gold decorated with lion motifs. Even more surprising was the longsword impaled through the skeleton's chest, and the tattered book on its lap.

She was about to call upon the others to take a look as well when a familiar flash of white light blinded her. This time when the light faded the buildings unexpectedly remained in ruins, although the ethereal appearance of the surroundings was there as before. Looking around herself she saw a ghostly figure approaching form the left, dressed in the same armor Tiraen had seen on the skeleton. The figure advanced slowly, one arm holding on to his side, as if he was wounded, while another held a sword in a loose grip. Just next to her the figure stopped, looking first inside the building, then turning his head to glance behind him. He sighed and entered the building, walking straight through her. He advanced to the far wall from the door and knelt, lowering his sword to the ground. He reached into a bag he had at his side, pulling out the book as well as a quill and a bottle of ink. The figure proceeded to scribble something into his book for a time. When he was finished he closed the book and sat down, leaning against the wall, reaching out and moving his sword closer to him. He continued to sit there for a while longer, sobbing to himself. Then slowly, reluctantly, the man reached out to one of the chains, placing it around his neck. He took hold of his sword, angling it in his hands until the tip of it was pressed against his chest. He sighed one final time, then plunged the blade into himself with all his strength. The figure's chin fell against his chest and his hands fell on the book on his lap.

The vision faded away, and Tiraen turned her eyes to the book. Curious to see what it could tell her, she walked closer, kneeling before the corpse. She reached for the book, brushing aside the dead man's hands as she did.

The moment she touched those dead hands they suddenly sprang into action, grabbing her wrists. The skeleton lunged forward, only stopped by the chain around its neck, screaming at her in a strange, distorted voice. Caught completely by surprise, she gave a startled scream of her own and moved back. She tried to tear herself free, but the skeleton's grip was as hard as steel. They wrestled for a time, both of them screaming, then the skeleton suddenly yanked her forward and shifted its grip, wrapping it hands around her throat, beginning to squeeze the life out of her. She tried to remove the bony hands from her throat, but once again the creature's strength was unnaturally great. She made to reach for the sword impaled through the chest of the skeleton, but the creature pulled her even closer, so she only had enough room to pull the sword partway out of its body. Her magic would not work as long as the amulet was still around her neck, but her staff was bladed and still strapped to her back and in a last ditch effort she reached for it. After a moment of panicked fumbling fingers she managed to free it. The length of it and her awkward position made it difficult to move, but she eventually managed to align the bladed end of it to position to strike, driving it into the skeleton with both hands. Her first attack lacked strength, bouncing harmlessly off the armor. She put more strength into the second attempt, and this time the blade managed to get through, but apparently to no avail. The skeleton simply ignored the damage and continued crushing her windpipe. As her vision began to darken she realized she didn't have the strength for another attempt.

Just then the rest of her team entered the room, drawn in by the noise. Flavius, seeing her distress, drew his sword and slashed at the arms of the skeleton, severing them. Without the rest of the skeleton attached to them, Tiraen was able to pull the hands off her throat and crawl to the far corner of the room, coughing and gasping for breath. The skeleton was still moving, screaming and flailing around with the stumps that remained of its arms, straining against the chain. Flavius swung again, taking the skeleton's head off, and finally the thing stilled. Flavius turned his eyes toward the ground and saw the severed hands still twitching on the floor. He stomped on them until they were broken and unmoving.

"Well that was scary. Your intervention was timely. Thank you." Tiraen said once she had managed to still her breath, rubbing her now bruised throat.

"So I see. Undead… I guess we should have expected to run across something like this at some point." Flavius said, eyeing the dismembered corpse. "I'm actually rather surprised it didn't happen sooner, considering the nature of this place. I mean, we encountered a lot of corpses when we first came here. And others since. Why didn't anything like this happen before this?"

"Could be any number of reasons. Perhaps we got lucky with the one's we found first and they weren't possessed, or the spirits inhabiting them weren't hostile. And we've kept our distance from other corpses we've seen around here. The amulets are obviously doing a great deal as well. This one didn't react until I touched it trying to take that book. Maybe that was a step too far. Perhaps touching the skeleton somehow allowed it to sense me despite the fade amulets."

"So you are saying we will be fine so long as we avoid doing that in the future?" Flavius said.

"That's what would make the most sense to me based on what we've seen so far. We've seen signs of spirits, and yet until this very moment we have not been attacked even once. So the amulets must be working to a degree." Tiraen replied.

Flavius and the others seemed to accept her explanation to her relief.

"This one looks different than the other corpses we've seen around here. A bit less decayed. Different gear." The commander then commented on the skeleton.

"That caught my attention as well. The book in particular looks unusually intact, so I was hoping it would be in a language I could understand, so I could get some answers." She said.

"Well, nothing stopping you now, My Lady." He said.

Nodding, Tiraen nodded and walked to the corpse, moving cautiously despite the fact the creature was in pieces now. But nothing happened and she took the book to her hands. Opening it she saw immediately that what looked like dried blood had smudged several pages, but what bits of text she could make out were written in what appeared to be the common tongue. Skimming through the tome, the text that was legible gave her the sense this was a journal of some sort. She came to the final entry, fortunately intact, and began to read aloud:

"This is the final entry in the personal journal of Gerion Lannister, head of the Valyrian expedition of house Lannister. It appears this is where my story comes to its end. Brightroar, the ancient sword of House Lannister that Tommen the second carried here, has been uncovered, but this place seems intent to keep it at any cost, including the lives of my expedition. Much have we learned from the visions this place has visited upon us, but I think those secrets will not be passed on. Of the nearly hundred people that came on this expedition, I am the last one remaining. Every attempt to get back to our ship has been stopped. The unspeakable, unnatural monsters that assailed us from the moment we set foot here have continued to hound our every step, accompanied by the dead. Our own fallen have bolstered their ranks, hunting their former comrades as eagerly as all the other horrors here. We had to… we did what we had to do to keep them from turning. Only fire, dismemberment and Valyrian steel seem to do anything to stop them. Jeremy and Timothy were the last to fall, a few days ago. Their fate was particularly gruesome, succumbing to the voices that have been tormenting us. It chills my blood to even describe the results, but I feel I must try so here. Their bodies warped and twisted, rendering them unrecognizable from their former selves. It was as if something else was wearing them like a person wears clothes. I managed to slay what they became, but now I'm wounded. I cannot go on. I hear the voices as well, and fear I won't be able to resist. I won't become what I have seen, and so I will end things before that can happen. This place will ensure my corpse will hunt no one else, even should it rise again. To my family, and my crew, I am so sorry. Coming to Valyria was madness. One that has cost us everything."

"Should someone be so mad as to come here and read these words, the sword that ended me is the Valyrian blade we came to recover. I implore you, return Brightroar to House Lannister. It is part of the legacy of our great family, and the reason so many sacrificed so greatly. Anyone that returns the sword to its rightful owners will be richly rewarded, that I assure the reader of these words, for we Lannisters are renowned for always paying our debt." She then read the postscript, and closed the book.

"So that is what happened with you." Tiraen said, looking at the skeleton.

"House Lannister? Isn't that one of the Westerosi houses?" One of her soldiers asked.

"It is. One of the more prominent ones in fact. I had no idea the Westerosi had sent expeditions here. I'll have to examine their histories more closely." She replied.

Then she smirked, wrapped her hand around the handle of the valyrian sword angpulled it out.

"This is the legacy of House Lannister? " She said, admiring the weapon.

"Alas, I think your final request must go unfulfilled." Tiraen addressed the corpse. "I have a better use for the weapon in mind. And so it belongs to your house no longer. The Imperium has needs, and this sword can help accomplish them. I'm sure Pet could use a new sword anyway…"

She turned to Flavius and handed the weapon to him. "Here. This is for you, for safe keeping. Use it as you will while we are here, then return it to me once we return to our ship."

"Thank you My Lady, but I hope that it will not be needed anytime soon." He said, accepting the sword.

"You never know." She said.

With that they went back to the task of finding a place to camp for the night. In the wake of the incident the prospect of sleeping inside buildings that could hide even more surprises was no longer appealing. So instead they chose a barren hilltop on the outskirts of the town next to some dead woodlands, with a commanding view of the area. Tents and bedrolls were set up, fire built, and watches for the night set up. As a Magister she was excluded from the duty of standing guard, and right now she was grateful that it was so. She retreated to her tent and thought to examine Gerion's journal a bit more. Very soon she discovered she was far too tired for that.

She set the book down and lay down on her bedroll fully dressed, soon drifting off to sleep.

She stirred when someone shook by the shoulder. She raised her head, seeing Flavius knelt beside her. "My Lady, wake up. We may have a problem."

"What is it?" She asked groggily.

"Spirits. Loads of them." He said.

"We have seen spirit's all the time here. Why is that a reason to wake me?" She asked, mildly irritated.

"Apologies My Lady. But there are quite a lot of them. More than usual." He said.

Tiraen suppressed a groan. "Commoners. So easily spooked." She thought. With the amulets no amount of spirits posed a threat to them.

"Alright, let's have a look." She said aloud, thinking it wisest to show up long enough to reassure her people. She followed Flavius outside the tent, and there stopped to stare in amazement at the sight before her eyes:

The plains beyond their hill were littered tiny dots of light. There were more in the city, and turning her head more lights could be seen in the forest. It was as if the stars had rained down and been sprinkled on the ground like snow. Most were of green color, but a few orange, blue and red lights could be seen as well. And the dots were moving, seeming to mill around pointlessly. In the illumination of those countless spots of light, she could occasionally see the outlines of other creatures, some humanoid, others far less so. Those she guessed were demons of another kind, perhaps creatures they had possessed as well.

"Wow, you weren't kidding. That's quite a lot of spirits." She said in awe.

"Still doesn't make a difference though. These will protect us from them." She said confidently, tapping the amulet on her neck. "They won't be able to sense us, not even if they are right in front of us. Just don't touch them."

At that moment there was a rustle in the woodlands behind them, making each Tevinter turn to the source of the noise.

It was a bear, a massive dead bear with thick brown fur. From the way the body of the bear was misshapen and bulging from strange places she guessed the poor animal was possessed. How else could it be explained that a live bear could be here in this lifeless land?

The bear walked through the camp and stopped in front of one of her soldiers. Trembling, the soldier drew his sword, about to attack.

"Wait! It can't see you! It's possessed, so it's a spirit like the others. It can't detect you if you don't touch it!" She shouted in warning.

The soldier continued to tremble, but obeyed, remaining put. The bear stood there, moving its head around, appearing hesitant. It moved its snout closer and sniffed.

"My Lady…" The soldier said in alarm.

"Stay put and you'll be fine." She said insistently.

The bear continued to sniff him, then bared its teeth.

"A-are you sure?" The soldier asked as the bear began to growl.

"I… I think so." She stuttered, suddenly less certain. Why was the thing acting like that?

"Watch out!" She shouted as the bear suddenly lunged forward. But it was already too late. The beast latched its jaws into the soldier's middle, tossing him from side to side like a dog killing a rat. Then he threw his dead body to the ground.

Briefly there was a shocked silence. "Kill it!" Flavius shouted then. Blades were drawn and the Tevinters charged. The bear's response to their approach was sluggish, as if it was uncertain what to make of what it saw. It was only when the first soldier came up to it and slashed it across the face that it reacted, roaring and trying to swipe the soldier with its paw. The soldier managed to retreat out of range just in time, and then Flavius moved in from the other side and traced a long red line across the beast's flank. The beast roared, turned and raised itself to its hind legs. Another soldier came close and plunged a sword into its belly. The bear raised a paw again, but just then Flavius struck one of its back legs, the Valyrian steel blade cutting it clean off. As the bear stumbled and fell Tiraen moved over and put the blade of her staff through its eye. That was finally enough to put the creature down. But their victory was short lived, for they came to realize that their actions had done something to attract the other beings all around them. A large number of lights were now converging on their position. In the woodlands a cacophony of rustling steps could be heard.

"Oh crap…" Tiraen breathed.

"Defensive circle! Protect the Magister!" Flavius bellowed, and the other Tevinters gathered around her, facing outward from the circle, their weapons at the ready, some preparing their bows while others switched straight to their swords and shields. There was a brief moment of waiting as the lights and sound drew closer. Then a transparent green humanoid figure missing the lower half of its body drifted out of the woods.

"A wraith" She concluded. One of the lesser spirits of the Fade, ones too weak to embody an aspect. Lesser, but still quite dangerous.

It hovered around, looking around itself, moving from place to place rather than heading straight for the Tevinters. Others drifted in after it, accompanied by other types of demons, looking just as lost. One of her soldiers fired, hitting the first wraith. Even as it was a transparent thing of green light, the arrow nonetheless managed to do harm to the wraith. With a screech the demon shuddered, flickered and vanished. In the moment it died the other demons briefly became more animated, moving closer before seeming to become aimless again. One wraith came too close to another one of her soldiers. As it drew closer it briefly recoiled, as if spooked by something before it got a sword through the middle. And the same scene repeated again, the death only seeming to attract more of them.

The Tevinter's continued to hold on to their positions, while more and more things were getting attracted to them. Possessed people and animals, undead and every kind of spirit and demon one could imagine. The Tevinters fired arrows at them until they ran out or until enemies pressed too close, then hacked with their swords at anything that came within reach. Because of their experience with the possessed bear they dared not refrain from attacking the creatures that approached, but to Tiraen it seemed it was only compounding the problem. The Fade creature were behaving very strangely. Their movements were uncoordinated, often not reacting to the presence of the humans in their midst until they happened to draw very close. This happened even with demons that were known to prefer ranged attacks. The possessed creatures were more aggressive in their behavior, but even they seemed somehow confused, often missing their blows or failing to counter the attacks the Tevinters made in return. It was as if they couldn't see the Tevinters properly. That odd behavior on behalf of the spirits allowed the imperials to hold on against numbers that would've otherwise crushed them in a matter of moments. But each time one of the spirits was destroyed it seemed to gain the attention of the others, attracting more of them from further and further away. Slowly the pressure on the Tevinters was increasing, their situation growing more desperate by the minute.

"Damn. We're just digging us deeper into our hole here." Tiraen thought with alarm, observing the situation unfolding from the relatively safe position within the defensive ring of soldiers. Even as she thought this an abomination reached the edge of the circle. One of her soldiers tried to strike at it, only for the abomination to reach out and catch his wrist. Its other hand grasped him by the throat, hoisting the soldier to the air and tossing him behind itself. The soldiers that had been next to him reacted quickly, closing their ranks again to patch up the gap, the circle of defenders slightly smaller than moments ago. The tossed soldier survived his fall, raising up his head from the ground. With horror he and Tiraen realized at the same time that he had lost his amulet when he was tossed. It lay now in the dirt inside the circle of soldiers, well beyond his reach.

"NOO!" The soldier had time to reach before a dozen spirits descended on him like a school of sharks and tore him apart.

"Fuck… fuck." Tirane cursed at the sight. From the corner of her eye she saw even more demonic creatures approaching, including at least two towering pride demons. This would not do. Something would have to change, and quickly, before this horde of demons overran her small group. She would not permit that. Not after all this, not when they were so close. But searching her mind she could not come up with any ideas how to do that.

Save one.

She planted her staff on the ground, driving the blade deep into the soil so it would remain upright. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and bracing her mind. Then she slowly raised her arm and wrapped her fingers around the amulet on her neck. She hesitated for a moment longer… then pulled the amulet off.

Instantly she screamed, doubling over form the pain, holding on to her head with both hands. The voices! She could hear them, hundreds of them, thousands, all pushing against the barriers of her mind, trying to get inside her head and claim her power for their own.

Hastily she pulled off the glove on her left hand and grabbed her wrist with the right. Red light glowed between her fingers and she felt an icy coldness spreading on her left arm from where she had laid her hand. At that same instant she felt a surge of magical energy inside her. She turned that energy inwards to reinforce the barriers of her mind. Shortly the voices assaulting her quieted somewhat. It was still a strain on her, every moment of exposure to the voices painful, but at least she could concentrate now. Looking at her exposed wrist she saw that the place where she had laid her hand was milky white and wrinkled, although it returned to its normal appearance quickly. As she had expected to happen. She hadn't taken too much of her own blood after all. Just enough to bolster her defenses.

At the removal of her amulet the spirits around them had gone wild, swarming against the soldiers that were keeping her safe, trying frantically to reach her now that they could sense her. Little by little her soldiers began to lose ground. She would have to work quickly now. Her people would not last long against an assault like this. She would just have to hope they could keep her protected long enough.

Standing before her staff she placed her palms against each other, fingers pointed forwards. She closed her eyes again and began to concentrate, taking deep breaths, in and out, in and out, driving away the din of battle from her mind. For all that this place was hurting her unprepared mind without the buffering effect the amulet had afforded her, she could also feel how it did not impede her spellcasting in any way. She had free access to the Fade and the ample sources of power it offered.

This would be a big spell. Far stronger than was typical even for her. Perhaps the biggest she had ever cast. Hopefully it would be enough.

Blue light began glowing between her palms.

"Take cover!" She said aloud as she began to move her arms apart, electricity dancing between her hands.

"What!?" Flavius shouted back, not hearing her over the noises of the fight.

"TAKE...COVER!" She roared as her hands moved further and further apart.

"Oh crap!" Flavius breathed as he turned to her and saw what she was up to. "Cover, cover!" He bellowed, and the Tevinter soldiers threw themselves to the ground. The spirits ignored the soldiers altogether and dove for the more tempting target at the center, converging upon her. Just before they reached her she thrust her arms fully outwards. Streams of electricity erupted from her palms, converging upon her staff. From there lighting exploded in all directions, jumping from creature to creature but missing her soldiers. So potent was her spell and so closely packed were their enemies that dozens, if not hundreds of spirits and possessed creatures were annihilated. The rest fled, frightened of the power that was unleashed against them.

When her spell finally abated, Tiraen lowered her arms slowly, her brow coated with sweat. Her legs gave out underneath her and she collapsed to her hands and knees. She had poured all her strength into that single all out spell. Now she had nothing more left. Seeing her fall Flavius moved over to help, as dutiful as ever.

"Th…the amulet… put…it…back on. Hurry. Hurry!" She said, between pained gasps for breath, straining to keep out the spirits still trying to get inside her mind despite the considerable numbers she had destroyed.

Flavius moved quickly, picking up the amulet and slipping it back around her neck. She gave out a gasp of relief as the pressure was taken off her buckling mental defenses. The sensation of being cut off from the fade again was still as unpleasant, but right now no felling was more welcome. It was several more minutes before she had managed to amass enough strength to speak up again:

"Thank… thank you commander. That was a very dangerous thing for me to do. Had there been another choice I would not have risked it."

"I'm glad you did My Lady. It saved our lives." Flavius said, still in awe of the display of magical power. He had known her to be an unusually potent mage, but this demonstration had caught even him off his guard.

"Not all our lives…" She said with some sadness. Cassian… Sejanus… their first casualties.

"How did this happen?" One of her soldiers, a man named Iustinius asked.

"I mean, shouldn't the amulets have kept us safe? Do they not work?" He explained, clearly made uneasy by the notion of the amulets not providing them protection after all. She recognized him as the one who had suggested aborting the mission the most often. She could already guess he was going to take the conversation there again.

"We should turn back. If the amulets don't do their job…" He said moment later, confirming her suspicions.

"They work. I just got a firsthand experience of how well they work." She said dryly, mildly irked that Iustinius doubted her.

"But…" Iustinius tried to continue arguing before Tiraen cut him off:

"You heard the words I read in the Westerosi journal, about what happened to them when they came here without the protection we have. You saw that happened to Cassian when he lost his. If these amulets didn't work we would all be dead by now."

"Then… what happened to Sejanus? How was that possessed bear able to sense him? And why were the spirits able to attack us at all?" Flavius asked.

Tiraen had to concede that was a fair question. She thought about it for a moment.

"The amulets work. That much is clear to me. But there may be things I overlooked. Possessed creatures… they can make use of the senses of their host in addition to their own. They do not function as well as they would have on the original entity, and because of the amulets those senses would be in direct conflict with the spirits own ability to perceive life. They may see us, hear us and smell us, but they can't sense our minds. So the spirits are still easily confused, easily misled, but there is a slim chance they are able to detect us." She said.

"As for the other creatures… I can still sense the Fade to a decree. And I suppose some kind of link must be maintained, otherwise we would be rendered Tranquil while wearing these. It is possible that the spirits might still be able to find that connection, although based on their behavior I'd say the must be at very close ranges to do so, within one or two meters. Additionally it is possible that the fact that there is no Veil here somehow reduces the efficiency of the amulets from what it was in Meereen, but that still leaves them operating within expected parameters." She added after a pause.

"So the new rules are don't touch spirits and don't get too close to them? But what attracted them to us in the first place?" Flavius asked.

Tiraen took another moment to contemplate what she had seen during the battle. "Every time we killed something the spirits briefly became more active. Death seemed to attract them. Either the act of killing briefly disrupts the function of the amulets or the spirits were merely curious as to how something could die without a cause they could detect and came to investigate."

"So in summary there were a few unexpected factors in the function of the amulets, but for the most part they work as expected. So we are still safe, provided we take some additional precautions." She said, trying to reassure her people.

"So what now?" He asked.

"The spirits have been frightened away by my assault. But they may return. We ought to find another campsite just in case. In the morning we will continue to press forward to our primary target." She said.

"My Lady, I still think we should not go any further." Iustinius said.

"Iustinius, enough. You're out of line." Flavius warned.

"I just explained why it is safe for us to continue." Tiraen said for her part.

"With respect ser, I don't think I am." Iustinius countered. "And with respect to you My Lady, as you just said your assessments have been incorrect before. There is every chance they will be wrong again. If so staying here is extremely dangerous for us. And if we die here this whole expedition has been pointless. We have the Valyrian weaponry. Those are tribute enough for our people. If we want to deliver them we need to survive long enough to do so." He said to her.

"Those weapons are trinkets compared to the real thing that we will stand to gain here. Even so long after the fall of the Valyrian Empire there are hundreds of examples of such weapons in the world. The ones we would bring back may be of some value, but it will not change the fortunes of the Imperium. This thing I have sensed has the potential to do so. I know you can't sense it. If only you could. Then you would not doubt the worth of this endeavor." She countered.

"Even if you are right and there is some power out there, you do not know if you will be able to harness it. You do not know if it will be worth the trouble." He argued.

"And I never will unless I go and verify matters. If I did not sense this power then I might agree that we have enough prizes to return home. But it is there, and it is real. And so long as there is a chance for that power to be put into the service of the Imperium, I will not give up on it." She said.

"That is your decision. But we are all in this together. I don't think it's your place to make that decision for the rest of us." He said.

There was a stunned silence. "Well, now he's definitely out of line." Tiraen thought.

"Have you forgotten me, soldier? I am Tiraen, of House Tasvius, commander of the fifth expeditionary legion of Tevinter. The legion you belong to. Also I am your superior in the order of the Venatori, to which you also belong. Make no mistake. Here, in this place I am the highest authority of our people. This decision belongs to me, and me alone, no matter what the underlying circumstances are." She said coolly.

"I know what you're afraid of. You don't want to die. Who of us would? And it is true, you could die here. I could die here. We could all die here. I asked all you here, because I believed you were willing to risk greatly, to put your lives in danger for the good of our people and our Imperium, just as I have done and will do. Iustinius… soldier of Tevinter. Was I mistaken to ask you here? Are you unwilling to perform this duty to the Imperium? Even though I and the others are willing to do it?" She said.

Iustinius looked at the ground, embarrassed.

"Now, I intend to continue this mission to completion, which will be to reach that mountain and the power within. I find I can do no less for my homeland. If you wish to turn back, you may do so. But understand this: If you leave, you leave as deserters. As ones who turned aside their duty to their Imperium in her hour of need. And you will do so without my protection. You have seen the difference that it makes. If Iustinius is right I imagine my talents will be needed to keep you safe." She said.

"I want this camp moved to a new location. Tomorrow we will resume our journey. Let all true Tevinters follow me." She said, then moved to gather her belongings and pack up her tent. Most of the other Tevinters followed her. Iustinius and a few others hesitated, but soon joined the rest.


	41. Chapter 40

**Chapter 40; The deep breath before the plunge**

**Characters of the chapter**

**Alexander de Rozien, **Chevalier of Orlais, Marshal of the Grand Army of Orlais, Supreme commander of the Orlesian invasion of Westeros

**Andharr Kronos **Lord of the Upstart House Kronos

**Deniel Fabre, **Master Engineer of the Orlesian military, head of the field engineering corps assigned to the Grand Army of Orlais

**Edmond Brahms, **Knight of Nevarra, Military advisor to the court of King Jon

**Gilbert Gagnon, **Spymaster for Marshal Alexander de Rozien, liaison on behalf of Marquis Briala

**Hannah of Starkhaven, **Ambassador on behalf of the College of Magi

**Jon Snow, **also known as Aegon Targaryen and Jon Stark, King of the North Kingdom of the Twin Kingdoms

**Malcom, **Soldier in the northern army

**Michel de Chevin, **Chevalier of Orlais

**Sansa Stark, **Lady of Winterfell and the Eyrie**, **Wardeness of the North

**Ynessa des Montagnes, **Chevalier of Orlais, Duelling Champion to de Rozien, Chosen Sword of Orlais

_**Curved/ bold text is in Orlesian**_

"Well, it seems the King has not changed his mind about surrendering. Unfortunate. I suppose we will have to do this the hard way." De Rozien said. Dawn was a few hours away, and the Marshal had called his staff together to go over the battle plan and receive their final orders.

"Before we begin I'd like to offer my condolences to you Lord Kronos, for the loss of your son." The Marshal said.

"Save it. You didn't know him. His loss was just a strategic consideration to you. No point in pretending otherwise." Lord Kronos said sourly.

There was a brief silence, the others in the command tent uncertain how to respond to Lord Kronos's mood.

"…If I offended I apologize. I was merely being polite. I can understand he mattered to you and I didn't mean for him to get killed." Alexander said.

Andharr sighed, bowing his head. "I know. Perhaps I spoke too bluntly. Forgive me. His loss still weighs heavily on me. We had our difficulties, him and I, and obviously he was too stubborn for his own good. But I had grown to be proud of the man he became. He still had his whole life ahead of him. It's not right that he died."

He sighed again. "I do appreciate your words in the spirit they were given, but no amount of sympathy will bring him back. All anyone can do for him is to give him justice.

"The rest of my family has arrived safely at least?" He asked then.

"They have My Lord. They are the personal guests of His Majesty the Emperor. The surviving members of other New Houses have also reached him or are passing through the Corridor, well on their way and safe from any retaliation." Gagnon said where he was standing.

"Good. Good. Then I will not need to worry for the rest of my family as I seek to win this war and avenge my son." He said. "In which capacity will my forces be needed?"

"For the time being you are to be in reserve. Your forces have done their part as we had agreed upon and now we will do ours. Should there be unexpected need you will be called upon. But make your presence known while you are here. Hopefully your presence joined with ours will intimidate the enemy that much more." De Rozien said.

Lord Kronos snorted "Well if they're not intimidated already I don't see how the few thousand I have with me are going to change that. I'm surprised you asked my forces to be here if this is how little use you intend to make of them. Why not have my forces stay at Moat Cailin?"

"You could not have all been fitted inside that castle, which is the only space safe from the dragon. No reason to provide an easy target to the Queen and that fire breathing monster of hers. Major General Robespierre can keep control of the situation at Moat Cailin. Furthermore, I do have a use in mind for your forces. Once Winterfell is taken I intend to turn it over to your forces. That is why I asked you to be here now. I do not expect conquering that castle to take very long, and afterwards I wish you to take possession immediately. You will hold on to the castle and oversee to our occupation of the north while we move our main host on to other targets. Perform well in that role and the Emperor will give your family a permanent governorship in addition to recognizing you as a lord, as per your agreement with him." The Marshal explained.

"I see…" Lord Kronos said, nodding.

"Of course, if you'd rather take a more active role in the siege…" De Rozien offered.

"I might. But as you said, my lads have done their part. They deserve a rest. I don't need to claim my vengeance with my own hands, so long as I get it." Andharr said.

"Very well then." The Marshal said, then moved on with the briefing.

"Enchanter Hannah, I want you and your mages to begin this battle for us. Hit the enemy defenders with everything you have, but make sure to only use spells that will not damage the castle itself. I want Winterfell captured, not destroyed." He said.

Hannah nodded. "I'll make sure my people are aware of those orders."

"Am I to retain control of the circle mages as well?" She asked.

"Yes, since messere Chaput remains at Moat Cailin." The Marshal replied.

"I'm sure he will be delighted that I will continue to have command over his people" She said sarcastically.

"With some fortune this will be enough to clear the castle. Should anything remain of the defenders after the mage attacks, we will send in the first wave to finish the job." He said, paying no mind to the mage.

"Master Engineer, have you been successful in providing my troops with the necessary siege equipment?" He asked.

"Yes ser, for the most part. Ladders, and planks that should assist us in getting over the trench our enemies have dug in front of their castle, pavises to protect them from incoming attacks, all that. I also having teams ready to begin moving earth and rocks to fill the trench at key points so heavier equipment can be brought over. On that note, the… ram could use a little more work though. I hope you understand, the time given was so short… We have been working on it nonstop since we got here, and the main part of the ram has been completed, but the roof still needs more time to be finished." Deniel said.

"Veery well." The Marshal said in dryly, somewhat disapproving that everything was not yet ready, but also understanding that the Master Engineer and his crew were doing the best they could. "I'll give you until evening. Hopefully it won't be needed in the meantime. If it isn't finished by the time it is required it will simply have to be deployed in the state it is at. I want your people working on it every minute from now on, so if we need it, it will be as ready as possible."

"Understood ser. And thank you." Deniel said.

"Should our assault specialists be deployed with the first wave?" He asked then.

"Not directly with them. The way you have described them to me makes me think that it might be unwise to deploy them alongside regular troops. But when the first wave attacks, move some of your specialists around the castle during the commotion, perhaps along the trench so they aren't seen. They are to attack from the far side of the castle. Their specialized equipment and the enemy's focus against the first wave should give them a decent chance of breaking through. If they then conduct themselves with care they can help reduce casualties." De Rozien said.

"I must stress the *conduct themselves with care* part. I want no friendly troops lost to them, so tell them to be careful." He added.

"I'll tell them. But you need not be worried My Lord. My people are professionals." Deniel said.

"I'm sure they are, but theirs is a dangerous, indiscriminate weapon, one that has not been tested in battlefield conditions. And with our other troops so close the risk is very real." Alexander said.

Deniel nodded his understanding.

"All this talk of deploying specialist troops seems rather unnecessary. We mages will decimate the enemy garrison. Even if some of them somehow survive, the first wave should have no trouble rolling straight over the enemy. Should we not continue to conceal their existence, conserve them for a more challenging battle, where their talents could tip the balance?" Hannah suggested.

"The upcoming battle may indeed proceed as you have outlined." Alexander said. "If it does I will be glad of it. But a good commander plans for every eventuality. If it comes to it these specialist could prove very valuable. We are going to have to reveal them sooner or later. Might as well do so now."

"Gagnon, word from the other battlefields?" He asked next.

"As I reported earlier, the Dragon Queen and her army continue to try get past Moat Cailin, so far without success on their part. The dragon continues to remain with the army, which is a good thing for us. The Nahashin marsh troops continue to make hit and run attacks against the Queens forces, with special focus on cutting enemy supply lines. Other than that, no significant developments have been reported on that front. Meanwhile admiral Baudin has brought the fleet to attack white harbor. As predicted the remaining enemy ships there were successfully destroyed. But the city itself has managed to throw back our assault. The admiral intends to attack again soon. Meanwhile the city is being subjected to intense bombardment, and sea access to the city has been cut off." The spymaster detailed.

"I do hope the follow up attacks succeed. That city is needed, and I'd rather not go through the trouble of bringing my army there. But very well." The Marshal said, then turned to his officers.

"Now then, each of you have received initial orders for your units. As for the specifics…"

"My Lord." Ynessa said, stepping out of the crowd and standing in front of the Marshal. "In the absence of other orders I have a request. I wish to fight with the first wave." She said.

De Rozien's mood visibly darkened. "That request is denied, Ynessa."

She blinked. This was unexpected. She had thought to receive a warm acceptance of her request, her skill welcomed at the frontlines as before.

"Oh. Then… is there some other role you wish me in during the..?" She began to ask.

"You have no role in the siege. You are not participating in the battle." He said.

Now she was utterly confused. "What? Why on earth not? What are you…?"

"That is the price you pay for your actions." The Marshal said coolly. "I had commanded you not to pursue the King. You disobeyed that command. Did you imagine I had forgotten that?"

First Ynessa was shocked, then turned annoyed. "You ordered other forces to pursue enemy…" She protested.

"I did. And had you pursued the enemy on my orders all would have been well. I would have even dismissed the ambush you fell in as an unfortunate incident that could not have been foreseen. But instead you deliberately went against my very specific orders and got a thousand of my soldiers, that didn't need to die, killed. All on the altar of your own vanity." He said, his voice having turned to outright icy.

"You think that you can do whatever you wish without any kind of consequences. It's high time you learned otherwise. You need to be brought back to earth, and so I will deny you what you are after to teach you a lesson. You will not engage the King in any way and you will not serve in any capacity in this siege." He said.

Ynessa was horrified. "No… don't do that to me! You can't!"

"I can and I am. Or have you forgotten who I am?" The Marshal said. "You will sit this one out and that is final. You are dismissed."

By now she was shaking with rage. Bad enough that he had done this to her, but he had done so publically, in front of all the officers. She clenched her fists, then with a snarl turned and strode from the tent.

It was Gagnon that finally broke the uneasy silence that lingered in her wake: "My Lord, something I forgot to mention… I have located us a specialist that can give us alternative means to deal with the dragon. He and suitable equipment for the army's use is on its way, though it will take some time to arrive."

"Good, good. You can give me further details about that in private." De Rozien said. "Now, as to the orders I was giving out…"

Ynessa walked through the Orlesian camp, fuming all the while. So angered was she that she didn't even check with the guard at the edge of the camp. Fortunately the guard recognized her and let her go without comment. She left the camp behind, advancing into the darkness until she reached the woods near Winterfell. One there she shouted in anger and slashed the nearest tree with the Sunblade. The enchanted blade easily cut through the trunk of the tree, and it fell over in a crash. She stepped out of the way and struck another. She continued rampaging through the forest, cutting up any tree she came across, shouting all the while, pouring her rage out of her.

"_**It is undignified to use the Sunblade to cut lumber, though I'm sure the raw materials will be appreciated." **_Michel's voice suddenly quipped after she had kept that up for a while. She paused in her assault against the trees, turned and saw him standing in the clearing she had made. She bowed her head, continuing to clench her sword.

"_**He… he denied me. After everything I've done for him, after all the blood I've spilled, he denied me! How dare he, Michel? How dare he!?" **_She snarled.

For a brief moment Michel seemed flabbergasted. _**"How dare he? Ynessa, don't you get it? I warned you not to cross him. And then you went and did the exact opposite of what I told you. Consequences were inevitable after that. You ought to be grateful that was all that he did, considering your actions. You should be on your knees thanking him for his mercy." **_Michel countered.

"_**Mercy? What? You're taking his side in this?" **_She said with disbelief.

"_**I'm not. But I don't think you appreciate the reality of this situation. Stop acting like a spoiled brat for a second and think! You got a thousand of soldiers, Chevaliers, under your command killed on a rogue mission that was in a direct violation of your own orders.**_ _**If de Rozien didn't consider you such a valuable asset and if you weren't so popular with the troops you would already been hanged for doing that." **_He said sharply.

Ynessa went quiet at that, her anger gradually subsiding. Somehow the consequences of her actions had not pierced her consciousness before this moment. She had been so consumed in getting to her target she had ignored all else. But slowly Michel's words were getting through to her, replacing her fury of being denied with a strong sense of shame. She felt sudden grief, but she refused to cry. Warriors did not do so. At another time that sentiment might have felt childish, but with her wounded pride that mattered to her.

"_**I didn't want those people to die. I didn't mean for that ambush to happen to us. You know that right?" **_She said quietly.

"_**I know. So does he." **_Michel said quietly._** "It's one more reason he was so lenient. If you had intended those deaths you would have been a traitor, and then you would have been killed for certain. But you chose to make a command decision without consulting or even informing him. In so doing you challenged his authority. He could not let that slide, particularly as the consequences of your action were so tragic."**_

Ynessa sighed, sheathed her sword and stared at the ground for a very long time.

"_**Maybe you're right. Maybe you both are." **_She said finally, her voice little more than a whisper. _**"Maybe I've been behaving like an entitled brat. This drive in me… it is sometimes a burden. It's just… it's what I am, who I am. I can't help myself. I still want to fight the king more than anything… but maybe I have been in error in the way I have pursued that desire lately. And others have paid the price for my mistakes. That is not how it should be."**_

"_**Being denied this opportunity is not a pleasant feeling. But I suppose that's the point. And I suppose there is some justice in that." **_She added.

Then she smiled._** "Thank the Maker I have a friend who can kick me in the head and make me see sense when I can't. Thank the Maker and thank you." **_

"_**You're welcome." **_He said. _**"It might be a good idea to apologize to the Marshal. He'll forgive you sooner if you show him that you are remorseful." **_

"_**I can't. Not yet at least. Some things I my pride won't let me do, not even when he is in the right." **_She said.

"_**We should go back to camp. I think I'll get drunk. Fancy joining me?" **_She asked.

"_**Okay. For one cup. Our attack is so close I should keep myself sober." **_He decided.

She gave a dry laugh. _**"Fine. Have your one cup. Afterwards I'll find myself somewhere to sit and drink and watch the rest of you storm the castle while feeling miserable I'm not there with you." **_

"_**Fair enough. Just don't get into trouble." **_He said.

"_**No need to worry, Michel. You know alcohol doesn't make me angrier. It just get drowsy." **_She replied.

* * *

Later, as darkness was starting to pale into the early morning, Jon was touring the castle, checking on their preparations. In the infirmary to his surprise he spotted Sansa. She was wearing a white apron over her dress and carrying a stack of folded linens to one of the tables.

"Sansa, what on earth are you doing?" He asked.

"I've decided that I don't want to be the only person here who isn't doing anything to help our side in this fight. So I will be working with the healers from now on." She said, turning to him.

"You want to help treat the wounded?" He asked, even more surprised than a moment ago.

"Yes. I need to do something if I'm to live with myself. But I don't know a thing about fighting, so it was either this or the kitchens. And while even that is important, scrubbing pots and peeling potatoes wouldn't feel worthwhile. This is better." She said.

"Do you know the first thing about treating people?" He asked.

"Not really, but the healers said that an extra pair of hands can still be of use to them. I talked it over with the healers, and they're fine with it. They'll let me know what they need, when they need it." She said.

"If… if this what you wish to do." Jon said after a moment of silence.

"It is. I was one of the ones who put these people here to defend us. The very least I can do for them is to help them when they get hurt." She said.

"It's going to get rough you know. The wounded they'll be bringing here... It won't be a pretty sight." He said.

"I've seen such things before, and I have a stronger constitution than you seem to think. You don't need to protect me." She said.

Jon smiled. "I know. I try to remember that, but what else is a brother to do?"

Sansa smiled as well. "Cousin, technically. But if you want to protect me, there will be plenty of opportunities. I'd rather you kept the Orlesians out of here, otherwise the work I do for the injured won't matter much."

"Then that is what I shall do. To the best of my ability." He said.

"Well… that's good." She said, turned around and resumed her work. Then she stopped again, unable to continue.

"It's almost time, isn't it?" She asked.

"Yes. It is. Nervous?" Jon asked.

"Yes." She confirmed quietly. "And you?"

"Of course." Jon said.

Sansa turned back to him again. "I guess, uh… I guess you should get going. Your people need you."

For a single heartbeat they paused. Then she moved forward and they embraced.

"Stay safe Jon." She said as the two held each other tightly.

"You too Sansa." He responded. They continued to embrace for a moment longer. Then they separated themselves and Jon left through the door. Sansa watched him walk away, then raised her hand to the level of her eyes, seeing how it trembled. She immediately balled her hand into a fist to stop that. She took a deep breath to steady herself, then returned to work.

* * *

Jon found his way to Winterfell's yard, heading towards the gate. As he walked he spotted Kieran among the other people of the yard, and they gave each other a nod of acknowledgement. Along the way to the gate he stopped briefly to chat with some of his soldiers. Even as this army numbered only two thousand now, there were too many for him to know every soldier in his army personally. Even so, he did his best to give himself a few familiar faces among them, to spread comradeship among them by speaking with them face to face, not as their King but their brother-in-arms. That feeling of brotherhood could make the difference between victory and defeat. Of course the performance of that duty had lately made him more uneasy than it typically did. Because he had kept a dreadful secret from them. How many of these men would be safely with their families had he told them of the Orlesian offer? How many might die now because he had hidden the truth from them? If they ever found out that he had done this, how could he ever look them in the eye again?

"Sansa was right. It had to be done. We needed them here. If we had told them too many would have abandoned us, and the rest of us wouldn't have had no hope then. There was no other choice." He told himself for the hundredth time. But telling himself did not make him feel any better about it. Perhaps he didn't even want to feel better about it. He could understand the necessity of this, and accept it on those grounds. But no one had at any point told him that he needed to like it.

He had just reached the base of the stairs leading up to the walls when he happened to overhear a group of soldiers seated on crates and barrels near the wall.

"May the spirit of ser Twenty of House Goodmen be with us." One of the soldiers said, which prompted laughter and quiet cheers from the others. Finding himself curious, he walked over. As he approached the soldiers stood up, about to bow to him.

"No no. No need for that now." He said, and the soldiers nodded and sat back down.

"Might I know your name soldier?" He asked of the soldier that had spoken.

"Its… It's Malcom, Your Grace." The soldier said nervously.

"I noticed you reference the spirit of some knight earlier. I must confess I don't recognize the name. Is it some recently knighted house?" Jon said.

"Oh that? Uh, no Your Grace. That happens not to be an actual knight at all. It's… more of an inside joke from the army I used to serve with before all this." Malcom said.

"There was a story back then you see, about a member of our ruling House not needing an army to attack his enemy, but rather only needing twenty good men. So somewhere along the line some of the lads hit upon the idea that it didn't actually mean twenty good men, but rather one guy, a *ser Twenty of House Goodmen*. It sort of stuck and started circulating among the troops, getting new details added as people talked of him. Eventually he kinda became this character. Supposedly he is this spirit of this travelling knight that in life sold his service to various armies. And any army he joined could not be beaten in battle, because he was such a damn good fighter. He never stayed with one army for long though, drawn as he was into new adventures. So all that good fortune in battle got spread evenly. He kept that up until he died of old age. But his spirit continued to wander the lands, looking for worthy armies to join up with. So now armies all over the place hope for the *spirit of ser Twenty* to be with them and give them victory in the battle.

"Oh… and which army was it where you heard this story? Not one that was under my command I think, else I might have already known of this." Jon asked.

"No… not one of yours…" Malcom said, appearing to be hesitant to answer.

"Ah. I think I understand. You don't need to be afraid. I don't hold it agaisnt you that you fought with my enemies. All that matters is that you're not opposing me now. You can speak freely." Jon said reassuringly.

"Was it with House Warblade then that you learned this story then?" He asked then.

"Well I was with them, but that wasn't where I learned that story. It… it happened when I served in the Bolton army Your Grace." Malcom said.

"The Boltons?" Jon repeated, caught by surprise.

"Yeah. I was recruited just before we faced off against Stannis Baratheon. The story I mentioned started going around about that time. After that I was in the Battle of the Bastards, one of the archers. Also one of the handful of the Bolton side who survived that battle." Malcom said.

"It was never anything personal that I fought against you in that battle of course. When your Lord calls you to battle, you don't say no to that. Particularly with the one that was in charge at that time. Doing so would have cost bits and pieces that I for one would prefer to keep." He added hastily.

"It's alright. I see…" Jon gave the soldier a long look. He certainly looked old enough to have been in that battle. And it was unlikely that he would make a claim like that unless it was true. "I seem to remember that all the Bolton soldiers were conscripted into my army afterwards?"

"That's true. That's how I ended up fighting for you for the first time. I was at the Battle of Nightfall, and later on at the taking of King's Landing. Survived both, obviously. After that the fighting stopped and I tried to get back to my wife and kids. Turns out they didn't survive the White Walkers…" Malcom said.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked." Jon said.

"It's alright. I mourned them for a long while, but eventually I decided I had to move on. Soon after that House Warblade decided to settle the area and start lording over the people that lived there. Since I had already done a lot of fighting and there wasn't all that much else for me to do, I decided to enlist in their army. I had no idea that they intended to raise themselves against you, of course." Malcom said.

"And then you managed to survive my army's battle with House Warblade and got conscripted into my army for a second time." Jon said. "Which also means you survived the battle with the Orlesians, and the ambush battle later on."

Jon gave a whistle. "You must have the best luck in all of the Twin Kingdoms."

"Or the worst. Depends on who you ask." Malcom said.

"And these others? Do they have a story comparable to yours?" Jon asked.

"Timothy there has more or less the same tale. But most of the others are just friends I pick up when I served in your armies. A few are even new ones I managed to get against all odds after the mess that led to my second conscription by you." Malcom said.

"Hmm." Jon hummed his understanding. "Battle of the Bastards… the Bolton troops did fight very well that day, unfortunately for my side. House Warblade did put up quite a fight as well. And those that fought during the Battle of Nightfall… their heroism can never be overstated. This world owes gratitude to you for that." He then contemplated. "Put that same effort to today's battle and I'm sure we will beat the Orlesians back."

Malcom nodded. "I shall. And thank you." A number of the others nodded as well.

"Good luck to you soldier. To you all." Jon said. "And… may ser Twenty of House Goodmen be with us." He added with a smile, his jape earning him laughter and cheers from the soldiers.

With that Jon left the group of soldiers and climbed the stairs to the wall. He found Edmond there, the Nevarran's eyes fixed on the Orlesian camp.

"Ser Edmond. Everything in order on your end?" Jon asked.

"So far no trouble. No movement from the enemy camp yet. That will change soon though. I'm certain of it." Edmond said.

Jon nodded and turned his eyes to the enemy camp as well. "Do you think we have a chance?" He asked after a lengthy time of silent observation.

Edmond did not respond at once. "We have done all the preparations we could think of. We are as ready as we can possibly be. But there is just no way around it. It is going to be brutal. Today will be the worst. The enemy believes they are in for a pushover victory, so they will put their full strength behind their first attacks, hoping to overwhelm us and put us out of commission in short order. The strength of that push will make things difficult for us, but the enemy overconfidence will be our best advantage. We will have a good chance to cause them heavy losses. If we make it through the first day they should become more cautious. Then it will be just a matter of seeing how long we can stretch things out."

"I see." Jon said. "We'll focus on surviving this one assault at a time, and worry about the rest as it comes." He decided.

"Yes, Your Grace. That would be best." Edmond said.

There was again a moment of silence.

"I have been thinking… I said some heated things to you when we decided on this course of action. It occurs to me that I never apologized for that. I wish to do so now while there is still time. Maybe fighting makes you uneasy, but even so it was very unkind for me to call you a coward. Not to mention untrue. If you were craven you wouldn't be here to help us now." Jon said.

Edmond smiled. "Thank you Your Grace. I believe I ought to apologize as well for the things I said. I spoke out of turn. You are a king. I had no business speaking to you with that tone."

Jon smiled, glad that there were no leftover hard feelings for them over this.

"But I think I should clarify. It's not fighting that frightens me, not even dying. Not in a way that would paralyze me at least. It's blood that does that." The Nevarran Knight said then.

"What do you mean?" Jon asked, frowning.

"Just that. It's blood that makes me scared. I don't know why that is so for certain, but there was incident in my youth that probably has something to do with it. I was perhaps five or six, and I had sneaked off to watch a tourney without my parent's permission. There was an accident on the field. One of the participating knights got a splinter from a tourney lance through his throat. I was hiding close by and got showered with the stuff. Ever since the sight of blood, or having it touch me has been an issue for me. It doesn't have to be my blood, I don't have to be bleeding to be scared. It's enough that someone is."

"I had no idea…" Jon said, having not expected this confession.

"Why would you have Your Grace? I don't talk about this often. Most people just don't understand." Edmond said. He sighed and shook his head. "It's an unbelievably stupid thing for someone like me to go on becoming a knight, a job where the sight of blood is more than likely. But that was what my family expected of me. I could not let them down just because I had issues. Over the years I have learned to manage my condition though. After a fashion. If I have had time to prepare myself mentally I can usually control myself to remain functional, but if I get caught by surprise it can still get pretty bad."

"It seems you are far braver than I even knew. Every time you engage in battle there is a great fear that you must overcome. And overcoming your fears is what courage is all about. Thank you for telling me this." Jon said.

"You are welcome. I felt that needed to be explained, now that you had noticed the problem exists. But please Your Grace, if we might return our attention to the battle preparations now?" Edmond said.

"Of course." Jon said. "The champion of the Orlesian Marshal I told you about earlier… Ynessa des Montagnes. She seemed intent to fight me in person. What can you tell me about her?" He asked then, managing to completely mangle the pronunciation of her name.

"Not much that that you don't already know, other than that she has a reputation for being one of the deadliest combatants in the Empire, which is proven by the sword she wields. I do know quite a bit more of that weapon as it happens. It is known as the Sunblade, and it is an ancient relic of the Orlesian Empire. No one really knows who made it or where it came from, but it is said to predate the Empire itself, and it holds great symbolic value to them. Orlesian lore says that the blade will never bend or break so long as Orlais stands, and that its light will never dim so long as there is courage in the hearts of the people of the Empire. True or not, it is one of the most potent weapons in the known world, able to cut through just about any material with ease. Only items with magical properties have been known to be able to stand against it. The wielder of the sword is known as the Chosen Sword of Orlais, and they are always considered one of the best fighters within the Empire. That is a title that, uncharacteristically for Orlais, cannot be bought or born into, only earned. To claim ownership of the sword a person has to defeat the current owner in personal combat.

"And if no one ever manages to do so?" Jon asked.

"Then when the previous owner dies a competition at arms is arranged between interested claimants and the one that is able to defeat all the other competitors gains ownership of the weapon." Edmond explained.

"It does sound like a dangerous thing." Jon admitted. "Do you think its wielder will be taking part in today's assault?" He asked.

"Almost certainly. Her combat abilities should be a great help in their efforts to overcome our defenses. It's hard to imagine why they wouldn't send her. And based on what you told me about her wanting to fight you, she will be looking for you during the battle. So be ready for her." Edmond said.

"I will be." Jon said, his voice grim.

A northerner horn blew a signal, interrupting their conversation. That only meant one thing. Turning their attention to the Orlesian camp Jon and Edmond saw enemy troops starting to emerge, gathering outside the camp.

It was starting.

"Battlestations! Battlestations!" Jon shouted down at the yard, and at once people began to run about, distributing equipment, moving to man the walls.


	42. Chapter 41

**Chapter 41; The siege begins;**

**Characters of the chapter**

**Alexander de Rozien, **Chevalier of Orlais, Marshal of the Grand Army of Orlais, Supreme commander of the Orlesian invasion of Westeros

**Deniel Fabre, **Master Engineer of the Orlesian military, head of the field engineering corps assigned to the Grand Army of Orlais

**Edmond Brahms, **Knight of Nevarra, Military advisor to the court of King Jon

**Hannah of Starkhaven, **Ambassador on behalf of the College of Magi

**Jerome Evander **mage-healer in the service of Jon Snow

**Jon Snow, **also known as Aegon Targaryen and Jon Stark, King of the North Kingdom of the Twin Kingdoms

**Sansa Stark, **Lady of Winterfell and the Eyrie**, **Wardeness of the North

**Ynessa des Montagnes, **Chevalier of Orlais, Duelling Champion to de Rozien, Chosen Sword of Orlais.

**Wolkan, **Maester assigned to Winterfell

**Cursive/Bold text is in Orlesian**

At the edge of the Orlesian camp Ynessa was seated on the ground, leaning against the body of one of the watchtowers, staring at Winterfell morosely while taking the occasional sip from the wineskin in her hand. That was were Michel found her, walking to her from deeper inside the camp.

"_**You seem rather drunk." **_He said to her.

"_**Did I misstate my intentions?" **_She countered with a slight slur in her voice, turning her eyes to him. _**"But I made good on my promise to you. Haven't picked any fights. Just been here like a good girl, watching, brooding." **_

"_**Good to hear. Thank you." **_Michel said, then turned his attention to the field outside the camp, where Orlesian soldiers were gathering. _**"I have to go now. My unit has been called to order."**_

"_**Then good luck to you my friend." **_She said, raising her wineskin in a toast. _**"Don't get killed." **_She added sympathetically.

Michel nodded and went on his way. Ynessa turned her gaze back towards Winterfell. _**"Blast it." **_She muttered to herself, then took another sip of wine.

* * *

Back at the walls of Winterfell the defenders had gathered, waiting for the commencement of the assault in silence. Some of them were the made up of the soldiers that had gone to war with Jon and Winterfell's standing garrison. The rest were men and women who had volunteered to fight to the last to protect the heart of the North. Perhaps a thousand had been added to their numbers that way. Some more if you counted healers, cooks, runners and others who were doing important work for the defense but who would not be fighting unless the enemy found them or if truly dire circumstances arose. They had been equipped from Winterfell's armory, given as much training as there had been time for, then dispersed among more regular soldier so they could benefit from their experience.

The bulk of the defenders were gathered on the section of the wall where they believed the brunt of the enemy would be coming. To try to defend the entire length of the wall would have spread their forces too thin, so at other sections of the wall the defenses had been concentrated on the towers and stairs leading down from the wall. Those chokepoints were critical. Each tower was like a small fortress unto itself, and the staircases were too narrow to fit more than one soldier at a time, negating any advantage in numbers the enemy might have. So long as they held on to those positions one defender would be enough to hold back a hundred attackers or more. If the enemy managed to circle around the main positions of the northern defense, hopefully those positions would hold on long enough reinforcement to be broken off the main battle and drive the imperials back. The godswood had a small number of defenders as well, although that had Jon worrying that his people were overextended. But the ground of their gods could not simply be abandoned to the enemy. Winterfell's inner walls and the heart of the castle were unmanned for now, but the defenders would retreat to them should the imperials manage to break through. Perhaps it would have been wiser to abandon the outer defenses and focus on defending a smaller area, but he and Edmond had agreed that it was necessary to oppose the enemy every step of the way while that was still a valid option. Abandoning defensive layers to the enemy would only hasten the end.

Every defender that could carried a bow now to give them more firepower. The only ones excluded were those like Davos who could not use a bow on the account of missing body parts or other physical limitations. Not everyone was skilled in the use of such weapons of course, but Jon was hoping that massed numbers would make up for that. Fortunately, thanks to the efforts of Sansa and Davos, ammunition was plentiful. To that were added piles of stones, mostly collected when the trench was being dug deeper, as well as cauldrons of boiling oil, dispersed along the length of the wall, ready to be used when the enemy reached the base of the wall. Should the enemy still reach the top of the walls it would come down to swords, their final means to drive this enemy back.

Jon turned his attention to the enemy force outside. There were a lot of them gathered, thirty, maybe forty thousand preparing for an assault. A hammer poised to smash through their defenses and swarm all over the castle like a horde of ants. Besides the multitudes of troops he thought he could make out ladders and pavise shields intended to protect the enemy troops and siege crews from arrow fire as they approached. He was glad to note that there were no siege towers present, not that the imperials would have had much of a chance of assembling such a thing in such a short time. That would make it easier to keep the enemy from overwhelming the, since they could only reach the top of the wall with ladders. There was a ram though, being maneuvered into position. Jon was surprised that the enemy had manage to build one so quickly. But Edmond had told him of how the Orlesian siege engineers built their machines through consistent, practiced procedures, using as many pre-made components as possible to speed up the process. Edmond had even talked about how their trebuchets were all built from identical parts, so parts from one could be used to fix another. It was all ingenious really. No doubt these people could have taught his people many things, had they not been enemies. But they were. The ram did not appear finished though, seeing as men swarmed all over it as soon as they were finished moving it.

The machine would not be an immediate problem, Jon knew. The first thing they had ordered done when they had returned from their talks with the Orlesians had been to demolish the bridge spanning the trench. That meant that even after the Imperials had finished the work on their machine they could not bring it across, not yet. Once they managed that though… he would have to think some way to destroy it, before the thing battered down Winterfell's gate. But as Edmond had said earlier, one thing at a time.

"We do have a chance of holding." Jon told himself, as he had done several times already. This assault force might outnumber them more than ten to one, the enemy army as a whole many more times than that, but even a million against one odds would not matter so long as they were on the outside of these walls. Only the ones that made it inside their defenses counted. The defenders of Winterfell had done everything in their power to reduce the number of enemies that would have a chance of doing so in a short amount of time. If they played this carefully, if they succeeded in moving their troops where they were needed when they were needed they had a chance of keeping those enemy numbers from becoming too overwhelming, and hold this castle. Then this would be a battle of attrition, just as the northern defenders had intended. They would buy as much time as possible, inflicting as many casualties on the enemy in that time as possible.

"That of course *if* Kieran's efforts to protect them from enemy magic were successful." Jon thought to himself. If that wasn't the case the enemy would likely wipe out their defenses inside fifteen minutes, then stroll in here without losing a drop of their blood.

"To have come so far and to have worked so hard to be ready, and to still be dependent on the actions of one man." He contemplated. If his methods worked and they actually made it through this he would have to think of some way to thank him for his service. If there was to be resistance here this day, it would happen because their mage advisor allowed it to be so.

In the end there was no way for them to kill all of their enemies, no matter what they did. Nor was that an objective they were aiming for. Without help from the outside, they were doomed to be overwhelmed eventually. For themselves there was no hope. This was their final act to buy their allies time. Time to end this foe that marshalled before them.

Perhaps at a time like this there was wisdom in accepting that they were already dead, as some warriors did in war. When you did that you stopped fearing death, and then you were able to function as you needed to, without fear or hesitation. Paradoxically that attitude was something that allowed one's survival.

"For as long as I live I will fight them. So will us all. How long that ends up being is inconsequential now." Jon promised himself.

"On the other hand by our current definition of victory we have already won. We will keep winning with every minute we delay the enemy, with every foe we manage to kill." Jon thought grimly. The thought gave him some comfort.

* * *

De Rozien was observing Winterfell and the gathering of his troops. Finally he concluded that they were ready to begin.

"_**Let's get started. You may commence your attack when ready."**_ He said to enchanter Hannah beside him.

Hannah nodded and walked forward. Standing in front of the gathered Orlesian forces, she was soon joined by other mages.

"Mages! Do your worst!" She shouted, taking her staff into her hands and igniting a fire to its tip. The other mages began calling up different kinds of magic as well. She raised her staff towards the sky and flaming orbs materialized above Winterfell, falling towards the walls. At the same time the defenders of Winterfell noted how faint blue marks flared into existence all over the castle. Just before the barrage of fire reached the soldiers on the wall the orbs seemed to enter a field of haze. There the orbs rippled, distorted and disappeared, as if they had never been. Before anyone at the walls had a chance of processing what had just happened the rest of the Orlesian mages began attacking as well, sending a cascade of different magical attacks against them. Fire, ice, lightning, pure energy, fade crafted rocks, just about every kind of magical attack conceivable. While the defenders of Winterfell huddled behind their wall, each of those spells distorted and vanished just as the first one had, the marks all over the castle glowing with ever more intensity as they worked to absorb incoming attacks. Even as no one was dying as of yet, it didn't make the experience any less terrifying. The world was shaking, filled with a cacophony of noise that could be heard in every corner of the castle. Even inside the infirmary people paused in their preparations and listened to the thunderous noise of the ceaseless magical assault.

After a torturous long while things finally began to quiet down as the magical assault tapered to a halt. As soon as the assaults stopped the wards faded and disappeared from view once again. At once Kieran went to work redrawing the marks, focusing on the ones that had been weakened the most. On the Orlesian side of the battlefield Hannah stared at Winterfell with a frown on her face, utterly puzzled.

"_**Well... that's… unexpected. How?" **_She said to herself.

"_**What happened?" **_De Rozien asked.

"_**Forgive me My Lord. Our attacks seem to have been stopped somehow. I don't understand it. The Westerosi should not be able to do anything like this." **_She said._** "It felt a little like…"**_ She added, but did not finish her sentence.

"_**Felt like what?" **_The Marshal insisted.

"_**Well this might sound a little crazy, but it felt a little like it feels when Templars are blocking magic." **_She explained.

"…_**How could that be? The Templar order has been disbanded for many years now. Even if there was some remnant group out there why would they be aiding the Westerosi of all people?" **_De Rozien said.

"_**I don't know My Lord. But I don't see the Westerosi managing this stunt on their own. I don't know who or how, but I believe someone from Thedas must have been aiding them." **_She said.

"_**We can figure that out later. The key point now is that your spells didn't work. An unexpected outcome to be certain, but fortunately we did not come entirely unprepared. I suppose we must do this the old fashioned way." **_The Marshal said.

"_**First wave! Make ready for an assault!" **_He shouted a command.

* * *

"Holy hells… it worked. It actually worked!" Jon said back at the wall."Is everyone alright?" He asked. His question was followed by a chorus of acknowledgements from the other northmen.

"Well, that was harrowing. But we're alive, thanks to Master Kieran." Davos said next to Jon.

"Yes. Thanks to him." Edmond said, equally as breathless from what he had witnessed as the others. "Well, that was challenge number one. The enemy troops are next." He said then.

"Way to ruin the moment Edmond." Jon said, but nonetheless nodded."Everybody make ready! Nock arrows!" He commanded. Wait for my command." He ordered. His people did as he had toddle them to, then waited for the enemy to come within range.

The enemy for their part were chanting the same chant they chant they had done at the start of every battle: "Orlais! Orlais! Orlais!"

Along with the others Jon listened to the enemy's war chant, gritting his teeth, feeling his anxiety rising with every passing moment. Finally he could not take it anymore.

"Winterfell! Winterfell!" He began shouting as loud as he could, over and over.

Davos picked up his shout "Winterfell! The North!"

"Nevarra! Nevarra!" Edmond joined in as well.

One by one more voices joined them until everyone at the wall were shouting their defiance at the invader. Some gave a shout for the North, some for their King while others shouted the names of the places they had come from. Some shouted the names of their loved ones, some their own names. A few just shouted. Those that carried horns blew them, filling the air with their mournful notes. While the Orlesians continued their chant the northmen responded in kind, countering them with every shred of air in their lungs.

Both sides kept that up for a while. Then, as if in response to the provocation the Orlesians surged forward, charging towards the castle.

"Archers! Draw!" He shouted a command over the noise. Those closest to him heard his command. The rest followed the example of their fellows. As they did the noise began to quiet down, his people focusing on the task at hand. Jon himself took aim at the mass of approaching enemies. After a few more moments of waiting the enemy entered their range.

"Loose!" Jon shouted, and thousands of arrows flew towards the enemy. Many were stopped by the shields carried by the imperials, but many others found their mark, and the Orlesian's began dropping. Archers among the attacking enemies began to shoot back, sending clouds of arrows to pepper the walls of Winterfell. Very few of the Imperial arrows managed to claim the life of a northerner, but the point of the barrage was more about suppression than killing, forcing the defenders to keep their head down and lessening the amount of fire being directed against the assaulting troops.

Despite the casualties they were receiving the Orlesians continued to advance. Very soon they reached the trench. Most of the enemy had the sense to stop close to the edge but a few had gotten too close in their rush and were pushed by their fellows that ended up impacting on them as they moved in behind them. As they had been digging it, the northerners had planted sharpened stakes to the bottom of the trench, so many of those that fell in were impaled. The rest found it very hard to climb out again due to the high and steep walls of the trench, particularly with all the commotion around them. But the trench was not deep enough to hide them from Winterfells archers firing from elevated positions so many of the survivors were shot in a manner of moments.

The rest of the Imperials had come prepared for this obstacle. They laid down planks to let them cross, while others put down the ladders they had been carrying for the purposes of the same. The trench was doing a great job of slowing the imperial assault, but in many points the Orlesians were beginning to stream across, continuing their advance towards the walls. At another part of the battlefield Imperial Engineers were moving in under the cover of their Pavise shields and portable wooden roofs, carting in wheelbarrows of dirt to fill a section of the trench.

"Focus the fire to where they are crossing! Shoot at will!" Jon shouted. At the moment of the crossing the enemy was exposed, and as the fire was shifted many soldiers died trying to make it to the far side. As it happened the trench was not the only defense the northmen had prepared before the arrival of the Grand Army. One soldier managed to make it across and run a few meters towards the walls before the ground gave in under his feet and he fall into a hidden pit impaled like his fellows in the trench by a sharpened stake that lay at the bottom. The space between the trench and the walls was littered with such trap pits to further confound the enemy, dug in random places to make it that much harder for the enemy to find them. With all these obstacles the enemy was unable to advance in any semblance of organized formations, instead moving forward in a stream of individual soldiers, easy pickings for Winterfell's archers.

Even with all these measures the enemy continued their assault. More and more boards were laid across the trench, letting them cross in ever greater numbers. Soon a number of them began reaching the base of the walls.

"Oil and rocks! Oil and rocks! Trained archers, move to the towers! Everyone else, ready your weapons!" Jon shouted his next series of commands. He then picked up a heavy stone and hoisted it over the wall. With a clang it impacted the helmet of an imperial soldier, denting his helmet and causing him to fall over never to stand up again. There was a brief pause in the arrow fire as the northern archers ran to the towers continue their attack beyond the easy reach of the enemy. Other defenders were upending kettles of boiling oil upon the enemy, the Orlesians screaming as the liquid seeped through, blinding them and burning their skin.

The Imperials brought up their ladders, docking them against the walls. As soon as they were in place the imperial soldiers began their ascent. A number of them were still slain by arrows, rocks and oil. But not all of them…

Jon picked up a long stave with a V-shaped opening on one end. He placed the open end of it against the crossbeam. He was joined by Davos, Edmond and two others, and together they began to push. The ladder was a heavy thing, made that way to support the weight of many armed and armored soldiers without difficulty, and to make it harder to do what Jon and the others were trying to do. They could feel the resistance as the Orlesians struggled to keep the ladder upright. Despite this resistance they eventually managed to get it past its center of balance, and the ladder unfortunately for those that were on it and happened to be standing underneath it.

As soon as the ladder was down the team moved on to the next ladder. Before they could do to that ladder what they had done to the first one an Orlesian soldier reached the top, jumping down and slaying one of the northmen that had been helping Jon. Jon released his hold of the stave and drew Longclaw. The Orlesian soldier raised his weapon, about to strike at Jon, but the King in the North was quicker, cutting him down. No sooner had he done so when he was alerted by an angry shout from behind him, seeing another Imperial soldier charging at him. That one got a Valyrian steel blade through the chest. Jon and the others spread out, battling the Orlesians that were spilling to the walls. Now and then they helped knock down ladders, but much of their attention was taken battling the enemy that had already reached the top. Edmond was visibly pale and uncomfortable with all the blood being spilled, but nonetheless he was fighting as hard as anyone keeping his fears at bay. Davos had never been a swordsman of any significant note, but he too was doing what he could. Ghost brought down an Orlesian soldier about to stab Jon in the back, the first of many the direwolf would go on to kill in this battle.

As he was fighting, Jon noticed that some of the Orlesians were moving to the right as they reached the walls, circling around the castle. He fought his way to his military advisor.

"Edmond! The enemy is trying to flank us! Take every fifth soldier and reinforce our positions where the enemy are putting pressure!"

"Understood!" Edmond said and began to gather troops. Jon fought on and took down another Orlesian. And another. And another. And another, and another, and another...

* * *

Meanwhile in the infirmary another wounded soldier was brought in, carried on stretchers by two mages.

"Alright, what's the issue?" Asked Jerome Evander, the leader of the mage healers that had been hired to aid the people of the North. It was the same question that he had asked of every case of injured soldier that had been brought in so far.

"Major leg wound. Possibly a severed artery. Right thigh." Said one of the mages that had brought him in. They laid him on one of the tables in the hall, then departed through the door to look for more wounded. As they laid him down Sansa moved in to lend a hand.

"Alright, we need to get the armor removed on his leg, get a look at his wound." He told her.

"Maester, give him milk of the poppy for pain so he remains still while we work." He then told Wolkan.

As Wolkan went to fetch the precious liquid Sansa and Jerome worked together to get the armor off the inured man's leg. At this time the hole in the armor was obvious enough that she knew at once which leg was in question. With some of the first ones brought in she had made a mistake, and the others had had to remind her that right always meant the patient's right, and left always the patient's left.

"Gods, I feel like such a bumbling idiot. I don't even know why they put up with me. It feels like I'm more in the way than being useful." She thought with some bitterness.

"Focus on the work, and learn as you do it. If you were really more trouble than you were worth, they'd tell you." She told herself firmly. While they had been polite to her they had certainly not been intimidated by her rank either. They knew that while they were working they outranked everyone, and their word was law.

They finally managed to get the soldier's armor off, exposing the long wound on his leg. Sansa turned her head away, looking a bit green in the face. The wails of the wounded and the smell of blood made this an unpleasant experience to go through, but in this regard she was doing better than she had thought she would. She had seen such sights before. After seeing the severed head of her own father, people killed right in front of her, a dead body that had been flayed, not to mention being trapped is a tomb full of dead people slaughtering the living… this was not so bad when you really thought about it. It was just a matter of adjusting yourself to it.

With that thought she turned her eyes back to the injured man. Jerome meanwhile was completely unfazed, leaning in closer to take a look at injury as Wolkan was helping the soldier drink milk of the poppy from a wooden cup.

"Hmm… a nasty wound. Straight to the bone. But thankfully it seems to have missed major veins." Jerome contemplated.

"Alright, you can handle this one. Clean his wound and stich him up. Once you are done have him moved to the side, this space will be needed for other wounded that are coming in." He said to the Maester.

"Lady Sansa, please assist him." He then told her.

"No healing magic?" The Maester asked.

"No. We could have many more wounded coming and there is only so much magic we can do without exhausting ourselves. So for now we will focus magical healing on life threatening cases where nothing else would work. Once there is a calmer point in the fighting and the rate of incoming wounded slows down we'll see what we can do with the rest of them. This one will be alright for now with basic treatment, so patching him up will suffice." Jerome explained.

"Understood." The Maester said. "In that case I will be needing more supplies. Bandages, thread for stiches, more milk of the poppy, that sort of thing. I have enough for him and a few more, but as you said there might be many more coming."

"Very well. Lady Sansa, if you would please fetch these things for the Maester, then return to help him. You remember where they are stored?" Jerome said.

"Yes. Bandages, thread, milk of the poppy. Got it. I'm on it." She said, then departed in the direction of the storage.

* * *

Meanwhile Edmond was quickly circling the walls to get where the Orlesian flanking force was going, northerners in tow. Gathering the troops had taken a few moments, particularly as they had had to fight Imperial soldiers the entire time. Even so he was confident he could get to the enemy before they managed to break through.

They were moving between two towers when they came across some dead northerner soldiers. The sight of them gave him pause. Many of them carried blade wounds, but that was not what bothered him. Their bodies seemed… melted. Their leather armor, clothes, their skin, flesh and bone, all of it. Only metal seemed to be unaffected by whatever had happened to them.

"Gods… what the fuck is this?" One of the soldiers gasped.

"I guess we are about to find out. The enemy has to be close. Come on." Edmond said. He was about to carry on when he noticed movement in the yard. There were about a dozen figures, heading towards the main gate and. Their equipment was unlike any Orlesian uniform Edmond had seen, but they were certainly not among Winterfell's defenders.

"There! We need to stop them!" Edmond shouted, pointing. "You find out where they came from and make sure no more get in after them!" He told a cluster of the northerners that were with him. Then he moved down the closest set of stairs, his weapon at the ready. A small group of soldiers moved on along the wall as he had ordered, the remaining northmen following after him.

As they got closer he got a better look at the enemy soldiers. And what a strange sight they were. They were all in a single seamless piece of dark fabric that was coated with what looked to be beeswax. A hood of the same covered the head and face completely. Two glass circles near the eyes allowed the wearer to see, while near the mouth the hood became a long trunk connecting to a pouch worn at the belt around their waist. The whole getup fastened to the body with a series of belts and straps. Every one enemy carried short triangular swords with a ball shaped handguard, metal vambraces as well as a leather vest lined with many glass vials.

In the moment he spent observing the enemy some of the northerners moved past him, heading straight for the imperial troops. As they charged forward one of the Orlesians spotted them. Without hesitation he shouted a warning to his fellows and they reached for the the vials in on their vest, throwing them to the ground. On impact the vials shattered, the liquid inside transforming into a white mist. The closest northern soldiers were caught in the cloud, and almost instantly they began screaming. They fell writhing to the ground, clawing at their faces and trying to tear their armor off. Edmond and the others that had been spared from the cloud were momentarily paralyzed by the horrifying spectacle they were witnessing. The Orlesians, apparently unaffected by the gas, set to work on the screaming soldiers, finishing them off with quick stabs of their swords.

The gas lingered only a few seconds before dissipating, and one of the northmen took the opportunity to close the distance between him and one of the enemy, managing to get to him before any more vials were thrown. The soldier smashed his sword on the chest of the Orlesian, cleaving through the fabric of his outfit. Unfortunately in the process several vials were shattered, resulting in a new eruption of gas. The brave northern soldier began howling like his fellows, dropping his weapon. The Orlesian soldier gave a shout muffled by his mask as well, trying to cover the wound on his chest with his hands.

"Watch out! Avoid hitting the vials!" Edmond shouted. Then he remembered that he and most of the others were still carrying their bows.

"Take them out at range! Shoot! Shoot!" He shouted a command. A number of others had already had the same idea and began sending arrows at the enemy. The enemy moved to get in close, knowing that they had an advantage there. Edmond had just taken his bow into his hands when he saw of the enemy troopers charging at him, raising up his arm and the vial inside his fist. Thinking fast Edmond dropped his bow and, deciding drawing his sword would take too long, pulled out his knife and stabbed his opponent between his glass eyes. As the trooper died Edmond could see the vial slipping from his grasp. He quickly reached out and managed to catch it just before it struck the ground. Unwilling to have such a fragile thing on him in the middle of a battle he placed the vial back on the dead man's vest, then retrieved his bow and made ready to fire on the nearest enemy.

Most of the enemy were shot before they could get close enough to use their gas weapons, but a few made it through. Vials tossed or broken during the fighting took their toll then. When the fight in the yard came to an end there were many more fallen defenders of Winterfell for each enemy. But at least they were now defeated.

"Well, seems our enemy has yet another trick up their sleeves. And this one rather vicious." He contemplated as he studied the dead enemies.

"Ser!" A new voice snapped him back to reality.

"Ser, we brought down the enemy ladders. It seems no more are trying to get through from this side." A northern soldier coming down from the walls reported, looking around himself with some shock at the carnage which had unfolded in the yard.

Edmond nodded, deciding to leave the mystery of these new enemy troops until later. "Very good. Then we should return to the main battle on the double. They will need us. Let's go!"

He and the rest headed back to where the battle was still raging on the wall.

* * *

Jon meanwhile was busy slaying yet another Imperial soldier. He had lost count long ago how many he had already managed to take down. The bodies of the imperials were everywhere, accompanied by dead defenders of Winterfell. The floor they were standing on was drenched in blood and gore, making friend and foe alike slip and stumble as they fought. He felt exhausted, his arms leaden. For every Imperial he killed another one appeared to challenge him. There was no end to them! It was never going to end!

Then, suddenly, without warning, it did. He slew his last opponent and realized there was no one else there to take his place. The enemy attackers had had enough, retreating back towards the Orlesian encampment while the defenders continued to pour fire at them killing as many as they could.

Panting, Jon leaned heavily on the stones of a nearby tower. For all his tiredness he was also elated. He could scarcely believe it. They had done it. They had held! They had beaten back the Orlesians! Some part of him had already resigned to the possibility of the first enemy assault also being the last one. But it had not been.

He saw Davos approaching and nodded to him and gave a tired smile, pleased to see that he was still alive as well. Neither of them had the energy to say much to each other. After a while Edmond joined them as well.

"Ser Brahms. Good to see you alive. How did it go dealing with the flanking attack?" Jon said to him.

"We won, obviously. But you should come and see what we came across. Both of you." Edmond replied.

Jon and Davos exchanged looks, then followed Edmond to the yard. Along the way Jon was stopped in his tracks by a dead body.

It was Malcom, the soldier he had spoken to just before the battle had started. He lay on his back at the top of the wall, his dead eyes staring at the sky. His throat had been cut, his bow was at his side and his sword halfway out of its sheath, giving clues as to what had happened to him.

Jon closed his eyes, drawing a shuddering breath, feeling his heart sink. Then he forced himself to move forward from the scene.

"Forgive me." He thought as descended the stairs leading to the yard. "Forgive my deception that led you here. You deserved better that what you got. You and all others like you. You all deserved to survive this and live your lives in peace, far away from the wars of lords and kings. Sorry I could not give you that."

* * *

Seeing her people on the retreat, Ynessa perked up from her drunken stupor. This outcome was a surprise, and it filled her with a mixture of emotions. She was not glad to see her people on the run, of course. And she dreaded the possibility of learning that some of her friends were now gone. Yet there was a part of her that was… hopeful. She had been so sure that the first assault would capture the castle, that the chance to fight the King would be stolen from her thanks to the Marshal's orders. But the castle was still untaken. Perhaps the King was still alive as well. Maybe there was still a chance…¨

She was ashamed at feeling that hopefulness. If felt like she was hoping for her people to fail, which could not be further from the truth. But still, there that feeling of hope was…

Her eyes spotted Michel among the crowds of retreating Orlesians, smiled at seeing him still alive and went to him.

"_**Michel! You're okay? W-what happened?" **_She said.

"_**Are you really so drunk I need to spell it out for you?" **_Michel asked in response. _**"We got beaten back. For my part I didn't even get to the walls. Too many people in my way. And to answer the question you are yet to ask, I have reason to believe the enemy King is still alive." **_

"_**I wasn't going to…" **_She tried to say.

"_**Not in so many words, but you have never been very good at hiding what you want. If you ever get involved in court intrigue that is the first thing you will need to fix. I can see you still haven't given up on the notion of fighting the King in person." **_He said.

"_**We'll… no." **_She admitted. _**"But not to worry, I was serious when I promised that I won't go against the Marshal's orders, for as long as those orders stand. Should De Rozien have a change of heart later on though…" **_

Michel sighed. _**"Ynessa, you are as stubborn as an ox. I don't think I have ever met anyone quite like you. No one I have ever seen has a singular focus like that." **_

"_**Why thank you. That is very kind of you." **_She said with a smirk.

"_**Not sure that as a compliment, but whatever." **_He said, which made her laugh out loud. Michel didn't laugh though, and she soon quieted realizing that the number of casualties sustained in this failed assault made levity improper for now. An unspoken apology was offered, and accepted.

* * *

Meanwhile Jon, Davos, Edmond and a bunch of other Northerners were gathered around the dead enemy troops in the yard.

"Well, these are certainly strange looking. It's like they have bags on their heads. Have you ever seen anything remotely like this?" Jon asked.

"Never." Edmond said. "But from the look of their kit they are especially suited to be used in siege battles. The offhand vambrace looks to be made unusually wide and thick, so it can be used as a buckler of sorts. Meanwhile the short sword is easier to use in confined spaces, and the ball shaped handguard won't get as easily stuck as a crossguard would. But without a doubt the vials they use are the worst part about them."

"You said that once the vials were broken the liquid became a sort of mist?" Jon asked.

"Yes. I saw firsthand the carnage they can do with them. The mist could burn through just about everything save metal and stone."

"And it's a nasty defense for them too. You dare not try to kill them." Davos commented.

"Indeed. Not at sword fighting ranges anyway." Edmond said.

"But how is it that they were not affected by their own weapon? It seems rather indiscriminate." Jon asked.

"I think the suits they are wearing are the key. The material looks to be immune to the gas, whatever it is. They also appear to be made airtight, with beeswax used to seal even openings between the threads." Edmond said.

Edmond then reached for one of the pouches the dead enemies had on their belts, slicing it open with his dagger. Out came a fine white powder.

He contemplated for a moment. "Hmm. These pouches are connected to the bags on their heads. And there is no beeswax on the pouch. I'd guess this is here so the wearer can breathe. I wonder if this powder is somehow able to neutralize the mist they are using."

"Bring a sample of the powder to the healers, and a few of the vials. See what they can make of it. Collect the rest as well, but be careful with them. I don't want an incident." Jon ordered.

"We could have a few of our people dressed in their gear. If the Orlesians send more of these bag-heads, they would be best suited to stopping them." Davos suggested.

"Good thinking. We will do that." Jon said.

* * *

"Yes, this substance is familiar to me." Evander said in the infirmary that evening, lifting up one of the vials, examining it against the light. "Fairly known in the field of alchemy. First time I've seen it weaponized though. On contact with the air it becomes a potent acid, powerful enough to melt flesh off a man's bones. Lighter than air, so it disspipates rather quickly though, unless it comes to contact with a surface it can melt."

Jon nodded gravely. "As we have discovered."

"The good thing is that there is a counter, in the powder you brought. Not even that difficult to make. I've already drawn up a list of ingredients for Maester Walkin to look for in his stores. And your mage advisor has dabbled in alchemy, so doubtless he has some of the ingredients as well. In the meantime you would do well to scavenge what you can from the enemy to give us a starting supply." Evander said.

"It's being attended to. So this powder will help to treat wounded affected by this weapon?" Jon said.

"Yes. We will use it to neutralize the acid, then use healing magic to repair any damage already done." Evander said. "The afflicted will need to be brought to us quickly though, before anyone else in fact. The acid acts quickly. If lives are to be saved every second will be precious." He added.

"I understand." Jon said. Then he turned his eyes to Sansa, who was busy working further away. "How has she been doing?"

"Well enough for a first-timer, Your Grace. She works well under pressure, and she has a strong spirit." Evander said.

Jon smiled. "A stronger spirit than you or I will ever truly understand. I would have it survive this siege."

A northern guardsman ran through the doors. "Your Grace, the Orlesians are back. They are bringing up the ram." He said, out of breath.

"Got it. Bring up torches and jars filled with oil. And have the vials we retrieved from the enemy brought up to the gate as well." Jon sprang into action, then departed through the door.

* * *

The Orlesian ram trundled forward, crossing the trench where it had been filled, over the boards that had been laid down to ease its passage. A company of soldiers were accompanying it, hiding under their shields against the arrows peppering them. The rest of the Orlesian host was standing further back, waiting to surge forward when the defenses were breached.

On the walls Edmond noted that a fair amount of arrows were hitting the ram, striking its wooden roof reinforced with soaked hides. "Shift fire! Don't shoot at the ram! Arrows won't get through. Aim for the troops! Take down as many as you can!"

The archers adjusted their targets, ignoring the ram. The siege engine moved on relentlessly, maneuvering past the trap pits beyond the trench, heading straight for the gate.

Behind said gate the King in the North was waiting along with some of his soldiers. He could hear the Orlesian machine getting closer. He reached into the sack in his hands, distributing the vials inside to his soldiers. He turned his gaze upwards, nodding to Davos, who was standing atop the gatehouse. The Onion knight returned the nod and turned to organize the troops in his charge.

"Steady." Jon said in a low voice. From the sounds of it the ram was now just outside the gates.

The noises of the approaching machine stopped briefly. Then the gates shook as something heavy impacted them.

"Now!" Jon shouted. The gates swung open, the Orlesian siege crews staring at them in surprise. Before the enemy had a chance to react Jon and the others threw their vials at them, then moved back to keep out of the reach of the gas. The effect was immediate, the Orlesians falling to the ground, screaming and trashing. The Orlesian company, that had been following just behind the ram, tried to surge through the sudden opening, but they were stopped when more vials were dropped on them from above. In under a minute the Imperial company was routed, fleeing back to their own lines.

"Burn it! Burn it!" Jon shouted, motioning at the ram. Jars filled to the brim with oil were dropped on the roof of the ram, followed by a lit torch. The thick boards and wet animal hides would have been enough to stop fire arrows, but this was more than it could take. The ram caught fire in an instant, the flames rising high, the soldiers atop the gatehouse retreating away from the heat.

Seeing the siege machine catch fire, a loud cheer arose amongst the ranks of the defenders.

_**"No! The crew…" **_Deniel Fabre exclaimed on the other side of the battlefield, having just borne witness to the same destruction.

"**_Those sons of bitches think they can win…" _**De Rozien said, realizing the Westerosi had just thrown back every attack he had thought to use against them. He continued to stare at the castle in disbelief for a time, then decided he had to reexamine his strategy.

"_**Begin working on a new ram. A better one this time. Use as much time and materials as you need**_." He told the Master Engineer.

_**"I… yes ser**_." Deniel said, still upset by what had happened.

De Rozien strode back towards his tent, deep in thought, stopping only long enough to tell his troops to return to camp for today.

And so the first day of siege came to an end. The remaining defenders of Winterfell rejoiced in their mutual survival, even as they knew that soon enough the enemy would attack again. In the Orlesian camp the mood was grim, as the Imperials realized they were in for a much harder fight than they had initially believed.


	43. Chapter 42

**Chapter 42; Our wars rage;**

**Characters of the chapter**

**Brandon Stark, **also known as the Three Eyed Raven, mage advisor to the court of King Jon

**Gerald, **Soldier in the Orlesian Imperial Navy

**Jeremy **Maester of Bear Island

**Jocelyn **Soldier of the Orlesian Empire

**Kieran, **Agent of the Inquisition, mage advisor to the court of King Jon

**Lyanna Mormont, **Lady of Bear Island

**Nicolas **Soldier of the Orlesian Empire

**Ser Caleb Threestones, **Knight of Westeros,Second to Lyanna Mormont

_**Cursive/Bold text is in Orlesian**_

**At Winterfell…**

"Are you sure you wish to keep on doing this?" Kieran asked, concerned.

"I must. The others require all the aid that can be given them." Bran answered, seated in his wheelchair.

"Its killing you, My Lord." Kieran protested.

"It is not I that does the dying." Bran countered, his voice even as always.

"And yet you feel it each time. How many times can one person die and still remain sane?" Kieran said.

"My body remains unharmed, and my mind is more resilient than you believe. I appreciate your concern my friend, but I will be fine." Bran said.

"Go now. You have tasks of you own to accomplish in this battle." He added, not interested in hearing any more arguments. Kieran paused, then gave a bow of his head and left Bran's rooms. Bran closed his eyes and began to concentrate. His mind departed his body, moving beyond Winterfell, past the Orlesian encampment and into the woods nearby. It took some time, but eventually he managed to locate something suitable for his purposes. A wolf this time. It was part of a pack, a pack of hundreds of wolves strong. Bran was fully aware which pack this was, but that did not deter him. This had to be.

The wolf trembled as he moved into the creature's mind, its eyes rolling over for a few seconds. The wolf fought back as it sensed the intrusion into its mind, but was soon overcome by Bran's superior will. As he took control his senses changed to those of the wolf. The other members of the pack moved away and snarled at him, sensing the change within their fellow wolf. This included the female wolf the size of a horse, the leader of the pack. Bran directed the wolf he was inside to flee before the pack would decide to attack, disappearing into the night. He needed this wolf alive, for now at least.

"Forgive me Nymeria. I have stolen from your pack. I have wronged you, and not for the first time either. If my need was not dire this crime would have been left uncommitted. I would make this up to you, but what service can the race of men provide that is of value to wolves, other than the promise to leave them in peace? Alas, I require strong beasts to aid in the defense of Winterfell, and your pack has many." Bran thought as he sped through the forest in the body of the wolf.

Several times already he had taken over a wolf from this pack as it had fortunately happened to be wandering close enough to Winterfell for his purposes. This would not last. The pack had had enough. Unwilling to lose more of their number to this plague that Bran had become to them, they had begun to move away from Winterfell, to new places to hunt in. There was no upper limit to his ability to take over the minds of creatures, of course, but the further away the pack got the longer it took to bring the wolf back to where he needed it. And right now time was of the essence. So he would leave the pack be from now on and use other creatures in their stead. Surely such creatures could be found, given enough effort.

The trees began to thin as he approached the edge of the forest. Between the trunks the lights of the Orlesian encampment could be seen in the distance. The mind of the wolf recoiled at this. It could smell and hear what resided here. A vast, monstrous pack of humans lingered here, with their hardskins, their sharp metal claws, their fires. This was no place for a wolf to be, especially a wolf alone. The wolf could sense Bran's intentions and like any sane living thing would it resisted, struggling twice as hard as before. But Bran smashed aside the wolf's will with ease, forcing its consciousness to the background, then advanced towards the Imperial encampment, leaving the woods behind.

He moved forward cautiously, avoiding spots of light created by torches and the eyes of the Imperial sentries. No reason to give himself away just yet. The barricade the Orlesians had raised around their encampment did give him some pause. But the thing was not fully complete yet, and soon he was able to find his way inside the camp through one of the unfinished sections. He sneaked between the tents, avoiding patrols until he came across two soldiers out of their armor, looking to be dicing.

"There. Those two would make for a good start in today's efforts." He thought. Without so much as a pause he darted forward and jumped at the closest one, closing his jaws around his throat, tasting blood. The other soldier screamed and jumped to his feet, trying to flee, his weapon nowhere in sight. Before he could Bran closed the gap between them and bit the soldier's ankle, dragging him to the ground. In a heartbeat Bran walked on the back of the soldier and broke his opponent's neck. With both of his foes dead Bran could hear running steps, people alerted to the noise. He fled from them, moving quickly between the tents as before. It was not long before he came across another soldier, this one in full armor, carrying a torch. The soldier roared at him, waving her torch. Such a display would have likely driven away a normal wolf, but this was not what she was dealing with. Instead Bran ignored the torch charged once again, Knocking the Orlesian to the ground. He tried to bite at whatever parts of her that were not covered in metal armor, but the soldier managed to catch hold of the wolf's face, his jaws gnashing only inches away from her belly. He was then interrupted by a sharp feeling of pain across his back. Turning around he saw that another soldier had managed to catch up, his sword drawn and coated in blood. Bran growled at the man and thought to attack him, but the wound he had sustained was more severe than he had realized. He managed to do little more than stumble forward, almost falling over from the effort. The enemy soldier stepped forth put the sword through the wolf's body and twisted. Collapsing to the ground, Bran felt an icy coldness spreading from where the sword had pierced him, all the strength from the body he was occupying disappearing. Then an impenetrable darkness swallowed him as the world retreated from his senses…

He snapped back into awareness with a loud gasp, the walls of his room around him once again. He took several shuddering breaths, his brow coated in cold sweat.

"That is never going to get any more pleasant, no matter how many times I do it. But why should death feel pleasant, particularly one inflicted through violence?" He thought.

"Two kills. Not a bad result but it could still be better." He pondered. Now that Nymeria's pack was no longer an option, he would have to think on what animal he could warg into next. If he looked hard enough perhaps the would find a bear. That would allow much more damage to be done to the enemy. Even if not, hopefully there would be a sufficiently potent creature for him to use close by. That was a necessary component of his efforts. Briefly he considered if he should try to warg directly into the enemy soldiers. As the Three Eyed Raven he could most likely win the contest of wills that would result from such an attempt. Humans were resourceful and had access to a broad variety of usable tools. And since he would be using their own numbers against them he wouldn't have to worry about running out of candidates to warg into. But almost as soon as the thought occurred to him he rejected it, chiding himself for even considering it. The morality of forcibly taking over the body of an animal to use it as a weapon was already an act that was questionable at best. Doing the same to a creature as capable of reasoning as people were would be utterly abhorrent. Such a thing had been forbidden since the first Three Eyed Ravens among the Children of the forest. And given what he had inadvertently done to Hodor he understood full well why such a thing was wrong. There was no justification for doing that. Even the death of everyone in this castle, including him, was a better alternative than resorting to that.

Then another possibility occurred to him: Their horses. The enemy had brought many with them. Horses were big, powerful animals, particularly the ones that had been bred for use in war. Powerful enough to potentially kill a human. Horses weren't naturally very aggressive, but if their bodies were to be used by him to attack the enemy… something to consider. He wanted to try to find a bear first though. With that thought he departed his body once again, in search of another target to warg into. He intended to make many more assaults on the Orlesians before the night was done. During daytime it would be almost impossible to sneak into the camp without being spotted and killed, so then he would have to relent and use the downtime to recover his strength. But that was one more reason to consider using horses, since they were already inside the camp. That way he would have a chance of causing chaos and disruption among the Imperials even as they were seeking to assault the defenses of Winterfell. Yes, the more he thought about it the more he liked the idea…

He did not look forward to feeling himself dying again, but such was the sacrifice that was required of him. He was hardly the only one who had to sacrifice in this battle, even if his contribution was rather more unusual than that of most. In some ways others were sacrificing more than he was, for other defenders of Winterfell were dying in truth, without ever having a chance to experience life again. If there was any way he could lessen that pain for them, he would do so gladly, even if it meant discomfort for him.

* * *

**At White Harbor…**

"_**Make ready to disembark!" **_Gerald shouted as they boat neared their target. Before them was the Harbor of the city they were to take. Around them other boats were advancing as well. Overhead rocks and balls of fire were flying, hammering the city mercilessly.

Along the way they had to negotiate their way past half sunken wrecks, left there from their first attempt to storm this place. In their first attack they had managed to take out the chain blocking access to the port, allowing the imperial warships to break through. The remaining ships of House Manderly had been eradicated next, their capture already deemed unnecessary. They had been so confident back then, sinking the enemy ships one by one through artillery, ramming, or boarding and setting them ablaze. But then their assault had carried on to the city itself, and the Orlesians had realized they had entered a quagmire of defenses manned by determined northerner soldiers. After a long, bitter battle that left a lot of people dead on both sides the Orlesian assault had been thrown back. Today was their second attempt to take the city, and this time they knew what kind of nightmare they were about to enter.

As they paddled furiously onwards a boat just near his own came under concentrated arrow fire, the passengers slain in a matter of moments. In his boat Jocelyn made her best guess as to where the arrows were coming from and sent an arrow flying there. A number of archers on the other boats did the same. But under these conditions it was not possible for them to organize volley fire and they had no idea what they were shooting at. Gerald rather doubted any of those arrows would hit anything useful. Moments later a rock propelled by a hidden trebuchet smashed asunder another boat, leaving its surviving passengers splashing in the water.

Moments later their boat finally got to where they were going.

"_**Out! Out! Everybody ashore!" **_Gerald shouted, drawing his sword as the troops carried by the boat spilled to one of the many wharfs of this ports city. His squad moved forward quickly, nearing the edge of the city proper, followed closely by other imperial soldiers that had made it ashore. While fire continued to hammer away at the boats still approaching, so far no enemy soldiers were challenging those that had already reached solid ground.

Gerald cursed as another rock hit the water, lifting up a small geyser. _**"Come on, we need to find those stone throwers and take them out, clear the way for the rest of our forces." **_He told the rest of his troops. Cautiously the Imperials made their way into the city, numbering around thirty soldiers. Strangely there still were no enemy troops in sight. Gerald could not shake the feeling that they were being allowed to advance this far.

As they rounded a street corner a window on one of the buildings creaked open a fraction. Gerald turned his head at the noise, but before he had a chance to say or do anything a crossbow bolt flew through the air and impaled one of his soldiers through the back of his head.

"_**Fuck!" **_Gerald cursed. _**"There! In the windows! Shoot! Shoot!" **_ He shouted, pointing. The archers among the Orlesians responded, but the window closed again, and the arrows only struck the wooden shutters.

"_**Damn these people. They fight us like animals!" **_Jocelyn cursed, kneeling beside the dead man.

"_**You there! Get in there and clear that building! Burn them out if you have to! The rest of us will move forward." **_Gerald told the nearest five of his soldiers. The rest of the Orlesians were about to set off again when they were stopped by sounds of shouting and running coming from further away.

"_**Here they come!" **_Jocelyn shouted. She took aim and dropped the first enemy to round the corner. More Manderly soldiers streamed in after him, their white and turquoise shields displaying the merman of their House. A quick estimation told Gerald that there were more enemies than there were Orlesians.

"_**Attack them! Stand together!" **_Gereld nonetheless shouted, drawing his sword and charging. He managed to knock aside the sword of the first man he attacked, then hacked off his opponents hand at the wrist. One stab though the enemy's flank and his opponent was no more. He turned around and plunged his sword through the back of a northerner engaging one of his soldier. He was looking for his next opponent as a runner came to him, shouting all the while:

"_**Ser, ser! Thank the Maker I found you! More enemy troops attacking our forces in the port! Your troops are needed back to reinforce us!" **_

"_**But… the stone throwers! We could still get to them!" **_Gerald tried to protest.

"_**No! Too many enemies in between! They'll stop you before you ever reach them! Stay here and you will be cut off and massacred! We need to regroup and gather up our numbers so we have a chance of punching through! Those are your orders!" **_The runner said.

"_**I need to head back. You are needed, so get a move on!" **_He said, then ran off in the direction he had come from.

"_**Damn!" **_Gerald cursed. He knew getting this far had been too easy.

"_**Alright, change of plans people! A fighting retreat back to the docks! Fall back by squads!" **_He shouted to his soldiers. He helped his troops fight the enemy off as one squad at a time the Orlesians retreated towards the docks. More enemy archers were appearing in the widows, slaying a good dozen Orlesians as they fled. It was obvious now that this had been a trap all along. The enemy had wanted them to come this far inside the city so they could destroy them while they were separated from the rest of their forces. It was Gerald's job now to ensure no more of his troops would fall to this trickery.

When his unit reached the docks again they were met with a devastating sight. There were hundreds of enemy soldiers in the port now. With their own troops still on their way the Orlesian forces were off balance, struggling to keep the footholds they had in the docks. Gerald's people moved in and did what they could to aid in their side in the battle, but it soon became obvious that the battle was going poorly for the Imperials. A wharf was overrun by Manderly soldiers, then another. Gerald realized that the position his troops were defending was now the only Orlesian pocket of resistance in the city. Furthermore no more reinforcements were arriving. Instead the Orlesian boats were turning around and heading back to the fleet. They had given up on the battle it seemed. And without them there was no way for them to win this battle.

"_**Fall back! Back to the boats!" **_He shouted, realizing that the battle was lost. To their credit his people did not panic at the order or the now crushing numerical superiority of the enemy. Instead they covered each other's retreat as best they could as they evacuated to the boats one at a time. Soon it was only the squad he had arrived with that was on the wharf, a veritable horde of Manderly troops converging on their position. Their boat was still where they had left.

"_**Go! Get to the boat!" **_He shouted as he cut a diagonal line across the chest of the nearest enemy. He and his squad turned around and ran to the boat, the enemy right at their heel. He was just about to enter the boat after his squad when a Manderly fighter reached them. Gerald was able to see him coming just in time, block his attack and put his sword through his middle. But more were coming, some of them carrying him bows. He realized then that his squad would never make it out of here alive. The enemy archers would butcher them all in their boat. Unless...

"_**I'll hold them off, give you some time. Get yourselves out of range as quickly as you can!" **_ He said, making a quick decision.

"_**Wait, what?" **_Jocelyn said.

"_**Go!" **_He said, and charged towards the enemy before anyone had a chance to protest. The enemy had not anticipated him to attack them all on his own. That worked to his advantage as he charged past the Manderly soldiers, hastily parrying the blows they tried to land on him as he passed them by, making his way to the archers gathering at the edge of the wharf.

His squad had departed, rowing furiously to reach open water. Now he just had to make sure they made it. He knew in his heart that his crew had been reluctant to leave him behind, but they knew that staying to wait for him would be certain doom for them. He had chosen to give his life to save theirs, and they respected him enough to make good on his sacrifice.

Apparently the fleet had also realized that their people were retreating, and had begun adjusting their supporting fire of their trebuchets to cover their retreat. Shots were now hammering the port, hitting the waterline and the buildings at the edge of town. Most of the Manderlys were unwilling to remain in the open with such a barrage, and were now fleeing to better cover inside the city. It appeared that the good admiral had his back, even if she did not know it. This barrage left only the ones that would refuse to leave and still were in a position to threaten his crew.

Just as one of the enemy archers drew his bow, taking aim at the boat he reached them. That one and another archer died before they could even react to him. The others turned their attention to him, most of them drawing swords. One trained his bow on him, only to get a blue feathered arrow through his throat. Turning his head to see where the arrow had come from, Gerald saw Jocelyn standing on the boat, sending arrow after arrow at the Manderly soldiers.

In his mind Gerald offered silent thanks to Jocelyn for her assistance, and fought on. Now that the enemy had their swords out his situation had shifted. He was quickly getting himself surrounded, the northerners converging on this last point of resistance in their city. Jocelyn's arrows were throwing a wrench in the efforts of the enemy though, dropping many of those who were careless enough to forget about them and giving Gerald some room to maneuver. He kept his attention focused on those of the enemy who carried bows while trying to stay away from the rest, although moment by moment this was getting harder. Most of the time he was desperately parrying the blows the enemy were trying to land on him, but now and then he managed to sneak an attack of his own. Most of those were successfully blocked by the enemy soldiers, but not all of them. With one such attack he buried his sword in the skull of a Manderly soldier. But in that brief moment when his sword was buried in the soldier's skull another one moved past his comrade and stabbed Gerald, sinking his blade in the Orlesian man up to its hilt.

Gerald wheezed, tasting blood in his mouth. Fighting through the pain he freed his sword and put it through the body of his killer. Then a throng of Manderly's were on him at once, taking hold of his arms and piercing his body repeatedly. A flaming jar impacted the ground nearby moments later, scaring away the northerners. His body riddled with wounds, Gerald fell to the ground. With his last strength he raised his head, seeing that he had succeeded. His efforts had bought just enough time for his crew to get to safety. They would live to fight another day.

With that final thought his life left him, a smile on his lips as he died there, so far from his home.

* * *

**In the marshlands of the Neck…**

Nicolas waited patiently, motionlessly, letting the fog of the marsh conceal him from the enemy. Seen from the road they were watching he and his fellows probably looked much like the low mounds of mud and grass so ubiquitous to this part of Westeros. They had been here the whole day, waiting for something worth their time to cross their path. Now it seemed their waiting had come to an end. Along the road twelve soldiers dressed in chainmail and partial plate, armed with spears and shields painted with the three headed dragon. They marched in good order, two abreast. Behind them came a wagon flanked by four more soldiers, then another twelve soldiers. Rank and file troops of the South Kingdom he figured. Supplies and reinforcements heading for the Queen. They would never get to their destination now though.

Keeping his movements slow so as to not be spotted, he placed an arrow on the string of his bow. He took aim at the wagon. His arrow was no ordinary arrow. As it struck home the side of the wagon exploded outwards, taking out the two closest soldiers. The wagon tilted to it's side as a wheel broke off. As the enemy reacted to the sudden commotion two more arrows exploded in their midst, killing several. After the explosions Nicolas and the others continued attacking with normal arrows. The enemy tried to group together and lock their shields to protect themselves from the arrows, but more began hitting them from the other side of the road, dividing their attentions. The driver of the wagon and two Targaryen soldiers tried to flee along the road, the rest broke formation, moving against one group of Orlesians or the other. As soon as they left the road the Targaryen advance slowed to a crawl, wading through knee high mud, their gear weighing them down. One by one they were picked off by arrows, not one of them reaching the Imperials. The ones that tried to run away fared little better, shot in the back.

The fight was over, having only lasted for a few bloody minutes. Nicolas smiled. This had been a rather good day's work for him and his squad. More than twice their number of enemies now lay dead, along with an entire wagonload of supplies. A minor achievement in the larger scheme of things of course, but it was all towards winning the war, and more than enough for now considering the small number of his team.

"Loot the wagon. Take anything of value small enough to be carried. Then burn it." He told his soldiers. The moved towards the wagon, but just as they made it to the road they were stopped by a roar coming from overhead. Filled with terror they turned their heads towards the sky, seeing a large shadow passing before the sun.

"The dragon! It has found us! Fall back! RUN! RUN AWAY!" He shouted as the creature dove into attack.

Before any of them could so much as move a muscle a column of fire swept down, engulfing them in flame.

* * *

**At Bear Island…**

Still half asleep Lyanna snuggled a bit closer to Caleb. Both of them were naked and in each other's arms, under the sheets in her tent. She was still asleep enough for thoughts to come slowly, but right now she was feeling very content. These quiet moment were the best part of her day. No fears, no worries, no life threatening battles. Just the two of them, in peace. She sought to continue sleeping but she stirred when she notice by sunlight coming through the flap of the tent. She sighed, then gently shook Caleb awake.

"Hi. It's morning. We ought to get up. We will be needed." She said to him.

Caleb sighed as well. "You know, kinda wish we didn't have to. Would be much nicer if we could just stay here the whole day."

She chuckled. "Right here, just cuddling? Well, cuddling when we weren't... As proposals go, that one is one of the more tempting ones. If only we could." She said, then leaned closer to kiss him.

"Maybe one day, when this is all over, we will get our chance. But for now, I think our war is not going to wait on anyone." She said when their lips parted again.

"Yeah. Unfortunately." Caleb said.

When they were dressed they exited the tent and sought out the Maester. Upon seeing the two of them approaching Jeremy bowed.

"My Lady, good morning to you. I have some news. I'm afraid they aren't very good though. The surviving scouts you sent to look for the camp where your people's children might have been kept returned to camp during the night.

"Surviving scouts?" She asked, already suspecting the worst.

"There… there was an incident. The scouts ran in to an enemy patrol on their way back. It was… a very difficult battle by all accounts." The Maester explained.

"H-how many made it back?" She asked.

"Two." The Maester said.

Lyanna covered her mouth with her hand, and sat down on a nearby stump. She had sent out ten.

"Have… have, uh, the scouts at least accomplished what we sent them out to do?" She asked.

"There was a camp at the location, but it had long since been abandoned. Whatever was there is gone. I am very sorry my lady." the Maester said.

She closed her eyes and bowed her head. That had been their best lead, the last one they had left. There was no denying it now. The children were lost to them. The promise she had made to her people could never be fulfilled.

Sensing that she wanted him to go, Jeremy bowed and departed. Caleb meanwhile moved to her side and placed a hand on her shoulder to console her.

"Eight. Eight more of us just… gone. For nothing, it turns out. Gods… I really had hoped Bern had been lying about this." She said.

"We all did." He said quietly.

She did not answer at once. "We are losing this fight Caleb. Little by little perhaps, but we are losing. The enemy is not running short on fresh bodies. We eventually will. The mainland meanwhile… they seem to have completely forgotten about us. They have their own war to fight, but it is not as if I want that much out of them. A single company of reinforcements. A platoon. A squad. Or just a few crates of supplies if that's all they can manage. Hell's, even a letter that says they are aware of the situation and are doing what they can about it would be enough. At least then we'd know they give a damn, or pretend to. But no. All we get from them is a damned silence." She said then, not hiding her bitterness.

"It's hard to say which would be worse. That they never got our messages, or that they have just abandoned us." He said in agreement. "But we have to keep the fight going. With or without reinforcements from the mainland."

"You're right. We have to. We don't have a way off the island, and surrendering means we get murdered or turned into lackeys of the Oxmen. But in the end we lack the means to fix this ourselves. And I'd rather not martyr myself to a people who didn't lift a finger to help us out. Nor do I want to ask that of my people." She said.

"Maybe you had a point earlier. Some bloody days it's just not worth getting up in the morning." She jested, making Caleb chuckle. Then she pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Look. Moping about isn't going to help matters. So let's be as positive as we can be about this, ok? Keep hoping for those reinforcements and make ourselves as productive as we can in the meantime?"

"Focus on the short term and let the rest sort itself out on its own? Can do." He said.

Lyanna smiled and nodded, then stood up. "Come on. We need to break the news to the others, then plan out where to put our focus next." She said with restored resolve.

She was not going to give up this fight. Not while she still had strength in her, and things to fight for. And damn the odds.


	44. Chapter 43

**Chapter 43; Desperation & Salvation;**

**Characters of the chapter:**

**Aramis **Soldier of the Orlesian Empire

**Daenerys Targaryen, **The Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains, Queen of the of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men of the South, Queen of the South Kingdom of the Twin kingdoms and Protector of the Realm

**Elsa **Soldier of the Orlesian Empire

**Grey Worm **Master of War on the Small Council of Queen Daenerys, High Commander of the Royal Army

**Meera Reed **Lady of Greywater Watch

**Song of Wrath **Unsullied soldier

_**Cursive/Bold text is in Valyrian**_

"This damned, stupid, tiny fort! It defies me!" Daenerys thought bitterly as she stared at Moat Cailin. This castle was anything but an imposing sight, with its low walls and wooden towers. Yet it had bested her and her whole army, proving all but impenetrable to every assault they had thought to land upon it.

Three more times she had sought to burn the fortress with Drogon. Each time had ended the same as the first. During the final attempt a blast of lightning had pierced Drogon's wing. His injury had been a small one, not enough to ground him or even slow his flight. But it had startled her enough to make that her final attempt. The enemy had the means to kill him, and if she kept offering them opportunities eventually they would succeed.

Without Drogon to give her an easy victory she had been forced to assault the castle in a more conventional manner. And she had discovered how this tiny joke of a castle had withstood so many invaders in its past. The only easy path to the castle was along the road. It was a narrow pathway exposed to incoming fire the entire way. She had a far larger force than were defending the castle, but in this narrow lane those numbers meant nothing. Several large assaults had already been beaten back with relative ease, her side sustaining heavy casualties. The arrow fire was bad enough, but it turned out the enemy mages were just as adept at murdering her troops as they were in deterring her dragon. Neither shields nor heavy armor had been a match for the storm of arcane assaults that had torn through her forces in each attack. One company of her Unsullied had managed to fight their way to the gates yesterday, making hope leap in her heart. But then rocks, boiling oil and alchemical grenades had undone their accomplishments and stolen that hope from her again.

She had tried to send forces around to attack along a wider front only to realize that the muddy ground was damn near impossible to traverse, not to mention trapped to oblivion. Far too many times she had watched a soldier lose his leg to a bear trap, or a platoon get sundered when they wandered into a flame mine. Those same traps also made it impossible to do what the Orlesians had done and build wooden platforms to traverse the grounds. She would have thought that over time her forces could find paths through those defenses, or that over time the number of traps would decrease and allow for safer movement. Neither of those things had happened. When they had managed to capture some Orlesians replacing those traps one night she had understood why that was. For all she knew the enemy main force was providing an endless supply of fresh traps to be used against her forces.

This whole mess was made even worse by the fact that her army had not exactly come prepared for a siege. It had never occurred to her that doing so might actually be necessary. Now her forces lacked the materials to construct the proper siege equipment, and this miserable swamp could not provide for them. Ladders had been easy enough to make from what they had, but that was hardly enough for this task. They had managed to scavenge materials from their wagons and the Imperial leftovers to build a makeshift ram, only to watch the thing get blown to pieces by the enemy spellcasters when they had tried to maneuver it into position.

She had drawn up as many forces as she could before the castle, but that had not been very many. With nowhere else to go the majority of her army was still on the road, trying their best to camp in a long thin line that stretched for several miles. This presented a crisis of its own, because the raids against her forces continued unabated. In terrain like this it was impossible to coordinate any kind of counterattack in response. Often they didn't even hear about an attack before it was all over. When they didn't strike at her forces directly they continued to hitting her supplies. Provisions were starting to run low, and her army was now suffering for lack of food. Rationing was stretching things out, but that could not last forever. She had insisted that she be given no more food than her troops, so now hunger was a constant companion for her too.

As before she had sought to use Drogon to hunt the enemy, destroying them wherever she could find them. But with such a large area to cover there was no way she could be everywhere at once. Nor could she and Drogon keep awake at all times, and when they rested the enemy struck. In desperation she had set large swathes of the marshlands ablaze in an attempt to flush the assailants out until her officers had begged her to stop. The smoke and steam raised by her campaign only made it easier for the enemy to approach undetected. She had listened to them, but this left the enemy free to attack with impunity. She was doing what she could to protect her army, but the attacks still continued, slaughtering her people without mercy.

Truly this situation was a nut she could not crack. How smug the Orlesians had to be with the knowledge that they had vanquished her so easily. The very thought of it made her blood boil in her veins. Yet rage was hardly the foremost thought. She knew the enemy was moving against Winterfell. The more time her army spent stuck here the more the feeling of fear and worry grew, eating her up from the inside. There had been no news. There could not be. Not here. Could Winterfell still be standing, after so many days, against such numbers? Or, should she find some way for her army to break through here, would she be greeted with nothing but ruins and bitter memories of ghosts she could not save?

"I'm going to break my army here." She realized with sorrow. "We are bleeding out, little by little. If we stay here my army will die." It was what the Imperials wanted her to do. They wanted her army to bash itself to pieces here, so her kingdom too would be unable to defend itself. This she could not permit. But neither could she leave Winterfell to its fate.

She could not bear the pain of fear any longer. "I have no choice now. I'll have to chance it. I have to the leave the army behind." She told herself. There was something she needed to do first though. The security of her kingdom and the survival of her army needed to be attended to.

Reluctantly she turned her eyes away from the castle that had defeated her, walked past several of her tired soldiers with their empty stomachs, and sought out Grey Worm.

"_**Grey Worm… this is not going to work. This castle cannot be taken as things stand. We need to order the army back." **_She said to him, hanging her head.

Grey Worm seemed shocked at first, then cast his eyes down. _**"Forgive me, My Queen. It seems that I have failed you."**_

She shook her head. _**"No, no. You did not. None of you did. If anyone failed here it was me. I marched us into a slaughterhouse, and too many have already paid with their lives. To ask for more to do so in this siege is pointless. The effort to defend the South Kingdom must be started anew where they will not die needlessly."**_

"_**It shall be done My Queen." **_Grey Worm said. **"Still, I am saddened that it has come to this. Particularly as I know how hard it must have been to come to this decision. I am aware how much you feel for the King. To leave him behind, even if it is a necessary thing, must be…" **

"**I didn't say anything about leaving him behind. Indeed that is not my intent. My army will retreat back to the South Kingdom and prepare to continue the fight there. But when the army is ready to depart I will head north with Drogon and take the fight to the enemy in person." **She said.

Her Master of War was stunned. _**"My Queen, no. You cannot. Their mages…"**_

"_**I'm not going to debate this! And I'm done letting worrying over what might happen keep me from doing anything at all! If they want war with me, then it is high time I brought the war to them! If going with Drogon on his own is the only way to engage the enemy then that is what I shall do. And then I will destroy them, or they will destroy me. Come what may, I will hesitate no longer." **_She erupted.

"_**I have no choice in this, my friend. I cannot leave Jon behind. If there is even a chance that I could save him…" **_She then explained with a softer voice.

"_**There might not be." **_Grey Worm argued._** "I know it is painful to consider, but he might already be lost. My Queen, I beg of you, do not risk your life for the sake of the dead. The living of your kingdom need you far more."**_

"_**Don't say that. Don't you dare say that. He's not dead." **_She said.

"_**Your Grace… the enemy was already moving towards Winterfell before our army was stopped here. The King only had remnants of his army left to him. After such a time and against such numbers, it seems improbable that…" **_Grey Worm said.

"_**He is no dead until I see a body!" **_The Queen exclaimed defiantly. _** "I cannot abandon him. I need him with me. And my son deserves to have a father." **_

"_**What of his mother?" **_He countered.

That did give her pause. She had believed to have already made peace with that reality. That… possibility. But now that it came down to it, could she do this to him? If she went and never came back her child would be an orphan. Just like her. No, worse than that, because her son would know what he had lost, unlike her that had never known her parents. And if she died would her council on their own be enough to protect her son from the Orlesians? What if they were not, and her son would be left all alone in the hands of her enemies?

It was very unfair for Grey Worm to use her son as leverage like this. But he had only spoken the truth. And he meant well regardless. He did what he had always done, and sought to keep his Queen safe. In the end though, was this not the same risk that existed every day spent on the front lines? There was only one constant in war: people died. She was well protected, but no more immune to this truth than anyone else. The moment she had raised herself against this foe she had taken the risk of leaving her son without a mother.

"_**I… my son has a strong heart. He can survive, if it comes to that." **_She said.

_**But hopefully it will not. We should not sell Drogon's capabilities short. He is powerful enough to destroy armies. We have seen that. At the very least it will be an even match." **_She added, trying her best to sound optimistic.

"_**Get the word out. The army will be retreating back to the South Kingdom as soon as it is ready. That much we can both at least agree on." **_She said with finality. _**"After you are on your way I'll…" **_

She didn't get the chance to finish her sentence.

There was a series of explosions around them, startling them both. The explosions had happened amidst her troops, killing several. Turning her head around she saw figures emerging from the swamp, moving completely unbothered by the muddy terrain.

"A raid? Here?" Grey Worm said, astonished. His surprise was understandable. This had not happened earlier. Not here before the fortress walls, where there might be at least a chance to organize a counter against the raiders. And while this attack consisted only of perhaps a hundred attackers, this was a larger force than there had been reported to participate in any of the previous attacks. Their victories had made the enemy bold it seemed…

Her soldiers began scrambling to react to the attack, many of them out of armor and unprepared to fight. There were sentries of course, and those assigned to stand watch just in case the enemy tried to sally out of their fortress. But the rest had had no reason to be in full gear unless an assault was planned. She was only grateful that she and Grey Worm were fully armed and armored at this moment.

"_**Drogon. I need to get to him. Quickly! You organize our troops!" **_She told Grey Worm, their debate some moments earlier forgotten. Grey Worm nodded and motioned for some of his soldiers to come over.

"Protect the Queen!" He told them in the common tongue. Together with those soldiers she proceeded toward her dragon, dodging explosions, arrows and fighters rushing about. She had almost made it, Drogon already lowering himself to let her climb to his back when an explosion violently knocked her off her feet. Falling she hit the back of her head on something hard. As her consciousness faded the last thing she heard was Drogon giving an enraged roar as, and wind on her face as he took to the air.

* * *

Daenerys woke coughing and gagging when a particle of ash drifted into her open mouth. How long she had lain there she did not know, but as she sat up she noticed that she was covered by a fine layer of ash, her face, hair and armor dirtied by a layer of grey. Looking she realized that same was true of every surface around her. More of the stuff was raining from the sky like snow. Here and there small fires were still burning and the landscape was broken by uneven mounds that she realized were bodies. Burnt bodies. Near her were the corpses of the half dozen that had been escorting her. "The blast that knocked me out must have gotten them." She thought. On the road there were the blackened remains of several wagons, looking ominously like skeletons of some long dead creature. The only thing that looked the same was the castle in the distance, as obstinately intact as ever. She was alone, not seeing anyone else alive.

What had happened here?

Her head still hurting, she wandered around in a daze, unsure what to do or where to go. That was until she spotted movement nearby. A badly burned man seated on the ground, leaning against the charred ruin of a wagon, raising a trembling hand toward her. Recognizing the armor remnants of an Unsullied soldier, she rushed over.

"Y-your Grace." The soldier greeted her weakly.

"Soldier, you…you're alive!" She said, knelling before him.

"For a little while longer." He said. "Song of Wrath, my name. One your Unsullied, Your Grace." He replied.

"Your injuries… h-how did this happen? Where is the army?" She asked.

"You did not see it? Your dragon… I'm afraid it became quite enraged during the battle. He fell upon the enemy, destroyed them utterly. Unfortunately in his anger he did not choose his target with any great care. I was unlucky, got myself burned, as did others. The rest fled his wrath, most heading south I think." He said.

Daenerys was horrified. Drogon must have thought she had been killed when in fact she had only been knocked unconscious. That made him lash out, and as a result…

"I am so sorry. Sorry that this happened. I would never have wanted this." She said.

"I know Your Grace. You burn only those you judge to be your enemies. Thousands of enemies. But never those you consider to be your own." He said.

"It's not so bad, My Queen. It doesn't even hurt." He reassured her. Then his expression darkened somewhat. "That… is not a very good sign is it?"

"D-don't move. I'll find help for you some…where." She said, tapering to a halt when she realized how silly that pledge sounded. What help could she possibly hope to find here, in place forsaken by everyone except the two of them? Well, maybe the Orlesians, but they were unlikely to just appear out of nowhere and offer their aid. At least she hoped they would not show up. That would likely end very badly for both of them.

Song of Wrath smiled at her. "I appreciate your concern My Queen. But it is too late for me."

"There must be something I can do." She said.

"My waterskin. I could use a drink. Tried to but… couldn't get the cork open. Not with what is left of my hands." He said.

Daenerys took the waterskin, opened it and brought it to his mouth, helping him drink. Song of Wrath eagerly drank several gulps.

"You should keep the rest. You will have more need of it than I." He said when he was finished. "Now you should leave this place. The raiders might return, or an enemy patrol might come from the castle. You must not fall into their hands. Go south, follow the road until you find your forces."

"But what about you?" She asked.

The Unsullied soldier chuckled. "Me? I am done for. At long last my service to my liberator is finished. Now I shall rest. But you… you must survive. You… must."

Slowly his chin fell to his chest, he blew out his last breath and moved no more. Daenerys bowed her head, tears tracing lines across her ash covered face. Then she lifted her gaze again, a steely look in her eye.

"Weep for the dead later. Survive first." She told herself. Song of Wrath had had it right. She would follow the road until she found help. Drogon was likely still somewhere in the region, though she could not see any sign of him. But she could not wait for him to appear. She did not know for certain he would find her, and the risk of being found by the wrong people in the meantime was too great. There was a link of sorts between her and Drogon, and he had proven able to find her even across great distances. But until and unless that happened she would be on her own.

With that thought she stood up and departed along the road.

She had walked for perhaps an hour when she suddenly froze. Her eyes had spotted movement. A mound that had looked like mud shifted and became a person, training a bow at her. He was only lightly armored, dressed in earthen colors, armed with a sword in addition to his bow. He wore no masks unlike other Orlesians she had seen, but even so she could guess his nationality easily enough. Other similar figures came into view as well, surrounding her, many of them with bows drawn and at the ready. She had been found after all, and not by friends. Unsure what to do she just stood there as the enemy approached.

"Well, well look at this. A Westerosi noblewoman all by her lonesome." The first figure said.

"You sure she's a noble?" Another one asked.

"Come on, use your eyes. It's obvious. Her gear may be dirty as shit, but... just look at it. Full plate armor? Fancy looking sword? It all says *money* to me." The first one said.

"Besides, I don't think they make commoners quite that pretty. Not in these parts." He added with a smirk. Daenerys suppressed a wince, uncomfortable standing there being evaluated like some object.

"A highborn, aye. But not just any noble. Aramis, that's the Queen." A female soldier said.

"The Queen? Elsa, are you certain?" Aramis asked, astonished.

"Yup. That symbol on her chest? The three headed dragon? Targaryen symbol." She said, pointing. "And those eyes? That hair? Very few in the world have those colors. Plus, this one is clearly supplied for a fight. How many fighting women you know there to be in the South Kingdom army?"

"Holy crap, Elsa. I think you are right." Aramis said. He gave an impressed whistle. "Queen Daenerys herself. Well isn't this our lucky day. I'm thinking the Marshall probably has a reward for her capture. I think we are going to be rich."

"I wonder… will the good Marshall pay more for her alive or dead?" Elsa mused.

Aramis shrugged. "We can bring her in alive at first. If the Marshall prefers dead, that's an easy fix to make on delivery."

"S-stay away from me!" Daenerys said, drawing the sword she now remembered she had on her. Disappointingly the move only provoked laughter and jeers from the surrounding Orlesians.

"Put that away. It won't do you any good." Aramis said, as amused as the others. But she only gripped the sword tighter.

Aramis rolled her eyes, then lowered his bow and drew his own sword. "Fine. Let's see what you can do."

"Not like that. Don't lock your elbows. And use only one hand. That is not a two handed sword you are holding." He mockingly advised as he took a step closer. Embarrassed she corrected herself. She had not come this far to be instructed in swordplay by the enemy! They were not taking her seriously. She could see it in their eyes. They were just toying with her, having fun at her expense. And maybe that was not a mistake on their part.

"Help me, Jon." She thought, trying to recall the lessons they had had together. "Help me remember how to do this."

The Orlesian soldier began to circle her, the others watching. She followed his movements as best she was able.

"Leg work is not bad. Not good exactly, but not bad either. Maybe you have some training after all." He commented as they moved.

"Well you first Your Grace." He told her when she didn't reply.

She attacked, only for Aramis to easily parry her, then launch a series of counterattacks that forced her back, barely blocking every blow against her. As they parted she made ready to attack again, only for someone behind her kick her in the back. She was sent stumbling forward until she tripped and fell face first into a nearby puddle, to the laughter of her tormentors. Red faced and water dripping from her hair and face she picked herself up, only to stop when she felt the cold edge of a blade gently placed against her throat.

"That's quite enough of that. Now you will come with us. Behave yourself and you will be shown a modicum of respect for your station. Cause any more trouble and I can assure you we can make your life miserable." Aramis said.

"Drop the sword." He ordered coldly.

She considered her choices for several moments, after which her sword clattered to the ground. He shoulders slumped and she turned her gaze aside, disgusted with herself. By getting herself captured she had messed things up for everyone. Now she was at the mercy of her enemies. She could only hope that their offer to treat her according to her station was a genuine one. The thought of what they might do to her if that was not the case made her shudder.

Aramis smiled, eyeing the sword she had just dropped. "That's better."

"Fetch some rope. This one needs to be secured properly." He told his fellows. Before anyone could follow that command, however, Aramis suddenly drew a sharp breath and brought his hand to the back of his neck. At first she thought that Aramis had just been stung by some insect. But then he removed something from his neck, staring at it in confusion. It was a tiny feathered dart. Almost as soon as he had taken it into his hand it slipped between his fingers, falling to the ground.

As the rest of them watched in shock Aramis began gasping for breath, a rasping, desperate sound. His face went red first before turning ashen. All the while he continued to sound like he was choking as froth began building in his mouth. His legs gave out from underneath him and he convulsed on the ground for a moment before going still.

"What the…" Daenerys breathed.

"They're back! Defend yourselves!" Elsa said.

"And you! Move a muscle to escape or attack and we will murder you without hesitation. Count on it!" She told the Queen. Tense moments of silence followed as the Orlesians waited for these mysterious assailants to reveal themselves.

Suddenly a woman with curly black hair charged from the mist, shouting. She was dressed in a patchwork of furs and leathers, a throwing spear in one hand and a shortsword in the other. Before the Orlesians could react the spear went through the throat of one and the shortsword was buried in Elsa's belly. Then the curly haired woman stopped as every remaining Orlesian was now pointing their bow at her. If she moved now she would be shot dead instantly.

"Alright, alright." The woman said, moving slowly as if to lower her weapon to the ground. Then a wicked grin sprouted on her face. There was a blur of movement as each of the Orlesians got a poison dart though their throat. They all began to die just like Aramis had died, gasping for breath, trembling, foam spilling from their mouths. Daenerys just stood there mouth agape, having a hard time processing what had just happened. Was this sudden third party friend of foe?

Apparently unperturbed the curly haired woman examined the destruction around her until she noticed Daenerys and her eyes flashed with sudden recognition.

"What the…? Your Grace? Is that really you? What are you doing here? Are you all right?" The woman asked.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine but… who are you?" Daenerys asked.

"Oh, where are my manners? Meera Reed Your Grace, at your service." The woman said as other people dressed in a similar attire to hers began to gather at her side.

Daenerys gave a relieved smile. She recognized the House name. One of Jon's bannermen. "Well met." She replied when she had managed to collect herself. "Your arrival was rather timely. Had you shown up any later I would have been captured by the enemy."

"Purely a coincidence Your Grace, but a happy accident for both of us. We've been hunting this particular batch for several days now. You provided the perfect bait to draw them out into the open." Meera said.

"With all due respect though… what are you doing here all by yourself, almost getting captured by the enemy?" She asked then.

"There was an attack against my army earlier today. I got separated. I need to get back to them." Daenerys explained.

Meera nodded. "We'll help you find them then. But first if you'd like to follow us to our camp? You look like you could use a break. And my people have a been tracking the enemy since before sunrise. Just a short rest, and then we will bring you back to your troops. They can't be very far since you said the attack happened just today."

Daenerys nodded and followed Meera's people to their camp. Sometime later she was sitting before a campfire, chewing on a roasted frog they had been kind enough to provide her. A meager fare to be certain, but under the circumstances it felt like a banquet.

"…So once we got the call to arms I gathered up as many of my people to join the fight as I could. Our plan was to join up with the King's army when he passed us by. But obviously that plan didn't go through, since things went in a completely different direction." Meera explained, also seated nearby.

"You prepared you people for war? Not your father?" Daenerys asked.

"You hadn't heard? I suppose you would not have. My father passed away early last year. It was not unexpected. He had been ill for a long while. As his last living child I am now the head of House Reed." Meere said with some lingering sadness in her voice.

"I see… I'm sorry for your loss." Daenerys said.

Meera sighed and gave a nod of acknowledgement. "Anyway, once we figured that the Orlesians were sending forces along the Kingsroad we decided to fight them here rather than join with the King's army. Made sure they paid a price for trespassing here. Afterwards we have been tackling with the troops they left behind, the same kind that you ran into. Did our part in trying to keep them away from your army. They've proven to be a nasty enemy, more so than any other enemy my people have faced."

"How so?" The Queen asked.

"Most Orlesians are like the typical invaders that have tried to attack us over the centuries. They come with horses, heavy armor and maps, and then this place kills them. These ones though… they understand the marsh. They respect it. They know how to get around just as well as we do. And the things they do not yet know they are learning all too quickly. We have been more or less on equal terms with them, and I've lost far too many men to them to my liking." Meera explained.

"With everything that has been happening I'm surprised that you didn't make yourself known. My army didn't have any idea you were out there and fighting. We could have helped each other." Daenerys said.

"I did consider sending word to you. But your troops were on edge any you were flying about with your dragon, setting fire to everything around your army. From up high we might look awfully lot like the enemy and I didn't want to put my people at risk. Figured we could do our job just as well without telling you about it. But at least you know it now." Meera said.

"Frankly I didn't expect your army to stop here. I expected you to punch through to Moat Cailin and carry on to the North. But I guess that is not what happened." She added.

"You could say that." Daenerys said, giving a dry, humorless chuckle.

"We need your help." She then admitted. "We can't get through their defenses. They have some method to stop me from destroying the place with dragonfire, and we've had no luck taking the castle by other means."

Meera nodded. "There are ways to get around that castle, if one knows the paths. We can guide your troops through them. The thing is… those routes aren't really suited for whole armies. It would take a long time before we can bring all of your forces through, given how many you have. And there is no way we can bring through horses, wagons or anything heavier than a man could carry really."

"That's not an option unfortunately. There is no time for it, and my army will need the things that would need to be left behind. We need to get through Moat Cailin, and that is the part you can help with." Daenerys said.

Meera looked puzzled. "Pardon me Your Grace, but I don't see how. My people are ill suited for frontline combat, let alone fighting in a siege."

"But you can get around this place quickly and quietly, and you can avoid being noticed until you wish to be. That could prove to be exactly what I need. You see, I already have the means to destroy Moat Cailin. I have had it from the beginning, but the imperials have stopped me from using it. But if that obstacle is removed…" Daenerys explained.

Meera nodded again, beginning to understand. "What exactly would you ask of us then?"

"I don't know exactly how they have protected themselves, but I have a notion of where to find the means they employ. Each time I and Drogon tried to attack them I noted a blue glow coming from somewhere inside the inner parts of the castle. What I would ask of you is to sneak inside, locate the source of this defense and find some way to destroy it."

"That… it sounds like a very dangerous strategy." Meera said.

"It is. Very." Daenerys admitted. "But the Orlesians think we have fled, and won't be expecting us to return so soon. They will have lowered their guard, and that should give you the opportunity you need. And success means we might still be able to save the North, and Jon. Your King."

Meera bit her lip, looking at the ground, contemplating. "House Reed has kept faith with House Stark for generations. We have kept faith by fighting the Orlesians we found here. If you say this will help us help them, then we are at your command. I will lead the men myself." She said finally.

"Thank you." Daenerys said.

It was then that a shadow passed before the sun, making both of them look up. Daenerys's face lit in a wide smile. Glancing to her side she saw that Meera had something of an opposite reaction, staring upwards with a startled expression on her face.

"Don't be afraid. He won't harm you. Not while I am here." Daenerys said to her, then stood up and walked away from the campfire and into more open ground so Drogon could spot her. The dragon dove down from the sky and landed before her. She raised a hand and petted his head as it came close while the dragon trilled at her, pleased that she was alive and well.

When she saw the dragons eyes shift from her she turned her head to see Meera standing nearby, staring at the dragon, almost mesmerized. She gave Daenerys an uncertain look, to which the Queen nodded. Slowly Meera came closer and raised a trembling hand to pet the dragon as well.

"I believe he likes you." Daenerys said with a smile after observing the scene for a while. "And believe me that is a glowing recommendation. Drogon is the best judge of character I have ever known."

"That's good to hear. I'm rather certain I would not like the outcome if he didn't like me." Meera said, continuing to stare at the dragon in awe.

"How do you think he found you?" She asked then.

Daenerys thought for a moment. "I have always been connected to my dragons in a way. When I am close to them… it's almost like I can feel their thoughts. But it's not like we could… have a conversation. Dragons do not express themselves in such ways I think. But I can always sense their state of mind, and they can sense mine. I suppose that link permits him to locate me."

"So… with the Orlesians… were you ever in any actual danger? Would he have just swooped down and rescued you if we hadn't done so first?" Meera asked.

"I'm not certain. This ability of his isn't entirely reliable I'm afraid. He has saved my life on some occasions, but at other times I've been in the clutches of my enemies and he has been nowhere in sight. I suppose his ability to sense me only works when he happens to be in the same general area as me. I'm glad that I did not have to put my faith solely on that in any case." Daenerys said.

"Your Grace! My Lady! We have found the Royal Army!" One of Meera's folk called out then from some distance away, unwilling to come any closer.

"You've found them!? Where!?" Meera called back.

"Well… we haven't found all of them! Just a small group! About forty or so, coming down the kingsroad!"

"Okay! Tell the others to get ready and we will go find them!" Meera said, then turned to the Queen. "Come along Your Grace. It's time we got you back to your people."

"Or… would you rather fly to them?" She asked.

Daenerys turned her eyes back to Drogon. "I… actually it's probably best that I just come with you."

Meera frowned. "Why?"

"I'll explain later. It's better this way." Daenerys said.

Although still puzzled Meera nodded in acknowledgement and the two left with the rest of Meera's people. As Daenerys had said, Drogon could sense her wishes, and so did not follow too closely, but neither would he let her out of his sight so soon after almost losing her. Instead he took to the skies, content to follow from above for the time being.

It didn't take them long to find the Royal Army unit Meera's people had spotted. As they had reported there were about forty of them, every one of them on foot. Daenerys was surprised to spot Gendry and Grey Worm leading the group, with the rest of them being a mix of Unsullied soldiers and Royal Army soldiers. When they saw the crannogmen approaching the Royal Army forces stopped and watched them warily. When they noticed the Queen amongst Meera's band they looked on in astonishment for a moment, then every one of them went to one knee.

"Your Grace… you're alive! We had barely dared hope…" Grey Worm said.

"I am. Alive and well, thanks to these people. May I introduce Meera Reed, of House Reed." Daenerys asked motioning at Meera and her band.

"Do stand up. Might I ask what are you doing here all by yourself? Where is the rest of the army?" She said then.

"Further back Your Grace. Preparing to mobilize so we can pull them back as you commanded. We decided to come back to look for you. Or at least your…" Gendry said before trailing to a halt.

"My body?" She completed the sentence.

"It was reckless of you to come yourself… but thank you for doing so." She said then.

"But if you are here, who did you leave in command of the army?" She asked.

"Lord Bronn showed up with reinforcements from the Reach while you were away. He was given temporary command." Grey Worm explained.

"Bronn? He's here?" She asked, surprised. The sellsword-turned-lord would not have been her first choice for that job. She didn't entirely trust him. Particularly not since she had heard a rumor that years ago, when they were still enemies, he had managed to injure Drogon. But oh well… at least he had brought fresh troops with him.

"There has been a change of plans. We have a new idea on getting us past Moat Cailin that I wish to try. Send a runner back that I want the army made ready to march as planned, and then to wait until this has been resolved. If the plan works the castle will no longer be blocking our path and we will advance to aid the North Kingdom. If not… then we will fall back as we originally planned." Daenerys told them.

Grey Worm looked puzzled, but nonetheless he nodded. "It shall be done Your Grace. But did I understand correctly? The army is to stand by rather than go back to Moat Cailin?"

"Yes. This mission calls for secrecy, and Lady Reed has offered to have her people to do the heavy lifting. I want the army close by, but not so close the enemy realizes we aren't leaving and put themselves on war footing again. That's essential. As such I think the people we have here will be plenty for our purposes." She said.

"Very well. Might we know what this plan of yours is?" Grey Worm said.

"I'll explain it along the way. We should set out at once." She said, then turned to Meera. "Lady Reed, please come with us, so we can go over the details of the plan, give you the information you need. I'd like to make the attempt of this tonight."

"Tonight?" Meera asked.

"If at all possible." The Queen confirmed. "Time is very short. And the sooner we act the better our chances of catching the Orlesians by surprise."

Meera nodded. "Then we will be ready."

"Your Grace. There is one more matter. Your Dragon. We do not know where he is." Gendry said.

"That's alright. I do." Daenerys said with a smirk. "He's not that far actually." She added nodding towards the sky, making Gendry, Grey Worm and several others look upwards and only now notice the tiny dot moving high above them.

The smile on Daenerys's lips died as she was reminded of something, and she went to speak with her troops directly:

"Soldiers… I realize the severity of what happened during the battle earlier today. That many of our own died to the dragon's flames. It is a tragedy that I would have much rather avoided. All that I can say in my defense is that it was an accident, and that I am deeply sorry what occurred. I would never knowingly assault those who serve me loyally. And so your Queen begs forgiveness from her army, and from the families who lost loved ones to this terrible mistake. Please, forgive me if you can, and seek not to avenge yourself upon me or my dragon. If you would kindly give this message to your fellow soldiers when we return from this next mission?" She said to them as humbly as she could. Nods and quiet murmurs of acknowledgement amongst the soldiers followed.

Daenerys turned back to Grey Worm: "Let us go. We have talked away enough time. We have been gifted one last chance to come to the aid of the North, and it will not do to squander the opportunity."


	45. Chapter 44

**Chapter 44; The heart of ice;**

**Characters of the chapter**

**Daenerys Targaryen, **The Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains, Queen of the of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men of the South, Queen of the South Kingdom of the Twin kingdoms and Protector of the Realm

**Grey Worm **Master of War on the Small Council of Queen Daenerys, High Commander of the Royal Army

**Meera Reed **Lady of Greywater Watch

Meera moved cautiously forward in the darkness, the moon a narrow white sickle in the skies. Behind her about a dozen of other Crannogmen were following right behind her, cautiously stepping only where she stepped. Before them was Moat Cailin, illuminated by pinpricks of light created by torches.

Their progress was torturously slow. Not only did they have avoid being seen or heard by enemies patrolling on the walls, but they also had to be cautious of the various traps that had been in the area. She had a cane with her with which she cautiously prodded the water and mud before her before taking each step. If anything remotely hard was felt under the surface her group altered course at once. She wondered how many of those had been genuine traps and in how many cases she had wasted time dodging rocks. For as long as they still had the light they had spent time planning this mission, and she had been provided a sketched map of all the known trapped areas Daenerys's people were aware of. But that map was a reasonable guess at best, and damn if she could remember all those places in the dark. Taking a look at the map would not do, since that would require light and that could be seen by the enemy, and then the mission would be fucked. So she had to guide her band of fighters through a field of hazards and hope that the diversions were necessary, for they only had as much time as the darkness lasted.

The risk posed by the traps was real enough though. A frightening moment had occurred when her cane had triggered a bear trap, snapping shut with a clang and shearing straight through the wood. The noise had startled them so badly that almost quarter of an hour had passed before they had dared to resume their forward progress. She could only hope no one on the walls had heard, otherwise they would be wandering straight into a slaughter.

When this attack had been planned it had been suggested that her group should have approached the castle from the south, along the road where these traps would not be, but she had refused the idea altogether. The southern road was the area that was watched most intently by the enemy, even now as they thought they were alone. Circling all the way around and striking from the north might have been a better idea, but it might have taken too long, so instead a compromise option had been chosen and her group was now approaching the castle from the western side. The plan itself was much the same as the Queen had presented it: Sneak inside, find whatever was stopping the castle being burned by dragonfire and destroy it. Then they were to signal the Queen, who was waiting nearby with her beast, then flee the scene fast.

Meera could not help but wonder if she should be doing this. Here she was leading her dozen into a castle occupied by hundreds better armed and armored. When her people did war they favored striking hard and fast where the enemy was weak and unaware, then melting away before a retaliation could fall upon them. Intruding straight into an enemy strongpoint was the opposite of what they preferred.

Silence and secrecy were their only defense right now. If they were discovered too soon death would be certain. Her people knew how to be silent and sneaky, but even they sometimes made mistakes. And there was the dragon to worry about. Now there was a massive being that understood nothing of subtlety. It didn't have to. She could only hope the thing was smart enough to understand why others depended on such a trait, and would keep silent.

Even on getting inside the castle unnoticed their problems would not be at an end. Once inside it was only a matter of time until the enemy became aware of their presence. In that time her people would have accomplish their task. She had no idea what to look for inside, or how to destroy whatever it was, or whether attempting such a thing was even remotely safe. And certainly she didn't even pretend to understand magic, which this business surely entailed. The only thing she did know was the vague location given to her by the Queen. Whatever she was seeking, with luck a blade would suffice against it. Otherwise things might get tricky.

Success held its own dangers as well. Daenerys had made it clear that as soon as she got the signal that castle would be set on fire, unwilling as she was to give the imperials an opportunity to use even more tricks they might have up their sleeves. That meant that unless they coordinated their actions just so they would kill themselves. If the signal was given too late the by then doubtlessly alerted enemy would overwhelm and murder them, leaving their allies unaware of what had transpired. Too soon and they might not vacate the premises in time and end up roasted. Being a hero was nice and all, but she and her people would much rather live to receive the praise.

Yes, the more she thought about this the less she could understand why she had agreed to entertain this potentially suicidal idea. But her family were loyal bannermen of House Stark, and on those grounds she had promised to see this through. Her people were probably the only ones who had a chance of handling this job right now, so was there really a choice?

Finally her group had managed to get close to the walls. She stopped, observed the situation for a moment, then, concluding that the enemy had not yet noticed them, motioned one of her fellow Crannogmen over. Without uttering a word she held up a pair of fingers pointed the positions of Orlesian guards. Finally she raised a finger to her lips followed by a cutting motion across her throat.

The Crannogman nodded, and they took blowpipes into their hands. Meera placed a poison dart inside, took a deep breath and brought the pipe to her lips aiming at one of the guards. Almost without a sound the dart flew through the air and embedded itself just beneath the Guard's breastplate. Throat might have been better, or his arm, but both of those were encased in metal. No matter. With the poison they were using a hit on his big toe would be lethal, as long as the dart made it through.

Both guards were hit at almost the same time. Seeing her target flinch and glance down she knew the dart had managed to pierce the padded coat. Almost at once the soldier began swaying. The Orlesian managed to bring a horn to his throat and for a brief moment she was scared that he might be able to give a signal. Then the paralysis rapidly spreading throughout his body, reaching his throat and lungs, leaving him unable to give the warning. He disappeared from view, falling onto his back with a crash that made Meera cringe. By that time the second Orlesian had also died in similar fashion.

For a time she waited again, listening for sounds from inside the castle. But only silence greeted her.

"Good. No alarm." She though. She motioned at the rest of her people. They gathered around her and a grappling hook attached to a rope was handed to her. That grappling hook she tossed upwards, to attach itself onto the crenellations. But as she gave the rope a yank to see if it was secure the grappling hook detached itself and fell back down. She whispered a curse and tried again. This time she managed to make it hold and began climbing upwards. As she climbed two more crappling hooks were attached and the others began climbing up after her.

Reaching the top she crouched down and surveyed her surroundings. Suddenly a door of a nearby tower opened and another Orlesian stepped through, then stopped mid yawn when he spotted her, and the pair of corpses nearby.

Briefly they stared at each other, frozen in place. Then, as the soldier drew breath to sound an alarm she lunged at him. Before the soldier could get out a sound she rammed into him and they went tumbling through the door and inside the tower. To keep him from shouting she slipped a hand under his helmet and clamped it over his mouth. As they struggled, the man making muffled shouts all the while, she saw the Orlesian reaching for the knife on his belt, so she quickly caught his wrist with her other hand. The soldier's remaining had reached for throat, and with both of her hands busy there was little she could to except move her head away. Instead of finding her throat the he grasped her face, the gauntleted fingers painfully scratching her forehead. Then that same hand moved down, taking hold of her clothes close to her waist an flung her off him. The Orlesian had just managed to get back on his feet when another of Meera's people barged in through the door and knocked him to ground again. As the two of them grappled, Meera drew her shortsword and ran to them, quickly slipping the blade through a weakpoint in the Orlesian's armor, putting an end to his struggles.

With the brief struggle now over Meera drew a shuddering breath. "Too close. We almost blew it."

More of her people were now coming through the door. "Ok. You, you, you, stay behind and protect our exit point. Bar any other doors and hide the bodies. No point in helping the enemy figure out where we are. The rest of you, follow me. Quietly now." She told them in hushed tones.

And so the Crannogmen proceeded down the stairs and into the castle's yard. There they darted from shadow to shadow, avoiding more guards. Luckily they did not have to raise their blades against any more enemies. As the Queen had predicted the enemy's guard was down, with most of them probably asleep at this hour. Fairly soon they managed to make their way inside the inner portion of the castle.

"Very good. Spread out. Look for anything that might be our target. But remember where we are as you do. Don't provoke the hornet nest." She whispered, and her people began moving from door to door, listening, peeking through when they thought it safe. All the while they were being excessively cautious, their hearts in their throats.

Like mice in the cat's den…

"My Lady, over here, I think I have something." One of them soon told her. She nodded and motioned those closest to her to follow, and the man led her to a door. She was just about to open the door when something crunched beneath her feet. Looking down she saw… frost? She became aware of how cold it had become, her breath and that of the others misting in the air.

"What in the hells…?" She whispered, then raised her hand to the door. The door had apparently frozen into its frames, so she had to apply some force, but eventually the door was pushed open with a crack. Immediately she recoiled from the sudden cold emanating from the other side, hiding her face. When the coldness relented a fraction she made herself look again.

"What she beheld was a dark blue crystal about twice the height of a person, standing on its tip and glowing with blue light. What the material was she could not even guess. Bands of gold engraved with runes were around it, slowly rotating around themselves, somehow suspended in the air without being visibly connected to anything. About every three seconds the crystal emitted a soft pulse of blue light accompanied by a quiet hum followed by a new wave of cold. The room it was in was coated in a fine layer of hoarfrost.

"This is it. It has to be." She said, and moved toward the crystal blade at the ready before anyone could say a word in protest. Every step towards the crystal made the air exponentially colder. It bit straight through her clothes, making her shiver, her movements growing sluggish. She hesitated, but advanced toward it.

"Don't… don't come in here! This thing is very dangerous!" She told her people, shaking from head to toes, but nonetheless forcing herself onwards. Finally she was standing before the crystal, seeing her reflection on its gleaming surface.

She was so cold. Not even in the lands beyond the Wall, standing before the White Walkers, had she felt like this. She had no way of knowing this, but this was coldness that became from outside the physical world, and thus it was not constrained by its rules. It was the very concept of cold, given form by the Fade and the labors of mages, crafted into this object. The icy air burned her face, and her lungs with every breath she took. The crystal loomed before her, ominous and strangely majestic, mocking her frail human form with its very presence. It would be the death of her, not because of malice or anger, but simply by proximity.

That thought made her angry and somehow gave her the strength to raise her sword and strike the surface of the crystal. The impact emitted a loud clang, but luckily the thing proved fragile, long thin cracks glowing with white light spreading from where she had struck. There was a new blast of cold so intense she almost dropped her sword, doubling over into a ball. Nevertheless she struggled through and struck again. She hacked away at it, the cracks on the crystal becoming longer and more numerous with each strike while the crystal itself glowed with a steady blue light now, growing brighter by the second. Small fragments were breaking off the crystal, swirling around it instead of falling to the ground. So sharp were those shards that they shredded her sleeves when they passed close to her arms. With each strike the air around her grew colder and colder, parts of her starting to go numb from it. A layer of ice was rapidly expanding across the floor, also coating her sword.

She felt her strength starting to wane from the relentless cold, and realized she could not keep this up. With every ounce of strength left to her she roared and struck the crystal one last time. On impact her sword exploded, driving a splinter of metal through her palm, making her scream. The crystal began glowing with white light, far too bright to look upon, a loud rumble filling the room. She tried to flee the room, but discovered that her limbs had grown so numb that she could barely move.

Just as she thought that this was to be her end she felt someone rush into the room, grab her and throw her through the door and into the arms of her followers. This was followed an instant later by a shockwave emanating from the room that knocked everyone to the floor.

When she recovered her senses from the blast she raised her eyes to look inside the room. The crystal lay in pieces now, the light on the fragments slowly dimming until they had gone from dark blue to a deep black. The bands of gold likewise lay twisted and broken on the ground. Wisps of blue energy still lingered in the room before fading away. From floor to ceiling the room was now encased in a layer of ice several centimeters thick. And in the center, near the device's remains there was a vaguely humanoid statue of ice, its head turned to the side and arms raised to protect his face. The ice was too thick to make out any details, so she looked around herself to see who was missing.

"Hendrik… he gave his life, to save me." She finally concluded, unable to tear her eyes from the ice sculpture he had become. If not for his actions that would have been her fate. As it was, the tip of her nose and the ends of her fingers had gone milky white and hard to the touch, the skin on her face and hands was red, dry and flaky, and she was still injured from the metal that had pierced her palm. But she was alive.

Shouts made in a foreign language made her snap out of her trance. The enemy had heard the racket destroying the device had made. No surprise there. No one with functioning ears could have missed that noise.

"We have to go!" One of her people told her.

"We can't just leave Hendrik like that…!" She tried to protest.

"He's dead, and there's no time! We have to go now!" The Crannogman countered.

Realizing that he was right she nodded hastily and fled with the rest of her people, cradling her injured arm against herself. As they fled back to where they had come from groggy Orlesians stumbled from their rooms along the corridor, some of them with weapons in hand. Most of them got a blade through them before they could even register the situation. Shortly they emerged into the open air and Meera spotted the trio she had left to guard their exit atop the wall.

"The signal! Light the signal!" She shouted to them as she ran forward. In response one of them lit a torch had brought with him, held it up for a moment, then cast it down the far side of the wall.

Further away, out of sight from the castle in the dark, Daenerys waited, seated on Drogon, eyes locked on the castle. She had been waiting like this for hours, and never once she had removed her eyes from the castle. She thought she could hear shouts and clangs of weapons in the distance now, sounds which filled her with anxiety. But finally she spotted what she had been waiting for: A pinprick of light falling down from the wall.

The signal.

Her heart swelling from the promise of hope she urged Drogon to take flight.

Meanwhile Meera's people had reached the top of the wall and were heading down the ropes while holding off the Orlesians as best as they could. More and more of the enemy were streaming after them, including the fully armed and aware night guards. But the Crannogmen weren't paying them much attention. They knew what was coming, and knew they had to get away from it. Meera herself headed down with the last of her people. Holding on to the rope with only one hand she progressed more slowly than the rest and was still halfway when an Orlesian appeared above her, angling a bow to shoot her dead. Before he could however he turned his face up, then promptly fled, disappearing from sight. The flap of massive wings behind her told Meera exactly what the Olesian had seen.

Thinking quickly, Meera let go of the rope and dropped down the rest of the way followed by two other Crannogmen that had still been climbing down as well. The instant her feet hit the ground and she fell on her back the castle was struck with fire bathed in flame from end to end, many structures within shattering immediately on impact. Meera shielded her face from the intense heat and crawled backwards. When she got a bearable distance away she huddled there along with the rest of her people, at base of the hill the castle was situated on. Finding that they were too exhausted to carry on immediately they simply lay there, looking at the stars, listening to the crackling flames. For a long time none of them said anything.

"Do you remember how during wintertime we stored meat by tying rope around them and hanging them outside on stakes high enough that scavengers couldn't get to the meat?" Meera finally broke the silence while nursing her injured hand.

"Yeah, in the cold it froze rock solid. When we needed meat we just chopped off as much as we needed and melted it over the fire. Why?" One of the Crannogmen said.

"Oh, nothing really. It's just that I was suddenly struck by this overwhelming feeling of sympathy for those slabs of meat. It's like I understand what they have gone through now." Meera said.

Tired laughter echoed in the night.

Meanwhile Daenerys was directing her dragon back toward the ground. On the ground the Royal Army unit that had followed her here was awaiting for news on the results of the mission. The landed a respectable distance from them, dismounted and ran the rest of the way.

"Success! Success! We did it!" She shouted as she approached, grinning from ear to ear.

Grey Worm smiled and nodded. "We saw the flames Your Grace. Word was sent to the army as soon we did, to put them on the march."

"Good, good. As soon as the flames abate enough to allow it we will be marching them to the North. I'll also be doing some scouting with Drogon." Daenerys said.

"Just scouting for now I promise." She added, holding up her hand. "I'll fly high and in the dark so I should be able to pass unnoticed. I'll look for signs of the Grand Army's presence so we can have better idea of where we are supposed to go. We can add to that with other scouts once we get past Moat Cailin."

"Meanwhile you should get to work to prepare for the army's arrival. Make sure the Imperial's didn't leave any more surprises for us. I doubt there is much you can do about it but if you can help put out the flames it would helpful as well. And check on Meera. If she and her people are still alive I wish to speak with her when I return." She continued.

"I'll be back before dawn." She said in conclusion and headed back to Drogon.

Hours later, as the pale dawn arrived, she was standing amidst the smoking ruins of Moat Cailin, watching her troops march by. Most of her army had passed through by now, only the rear guard still remained. Even so she would not have them stopping again before nightfall.

The dragon's fire burned so hot that the wooden parts had been consumed in short order, and the rest of the flames had died out for lack of fuel. Moat Cailin had been in poor repair since before the Orlesians had occupied it, and now it had been reduced to a pile of rubble. The only thing to survive the fire unscathed was the room where the Orlesian artefact had reportedly been stored, perhaps protected by some magical residue, she did not know. The room had been soaked with water, containing the body of the Crannogman that had died during the mission, already returned to his people. Remnants of the device had been turned over to the Maesters in the hopes they could learn something of value from it. She didn't put much faith in that though. Something like this was beyond their expertise. Beyond the expertise of anyone in Westeros. More likely they would just document what they could, then stuff their findings in some dusty archive of theirs and forget about it, like they always did. And certainly even if they had some useable results they were willing to share it would not come soon enough to have any bearing in this war.

Her thoughts were caught up in what she had discovered during her flight. She had found the Grand Army just as planned. To her considerable surprise they were still parked at Winterfell. At Winterfell, but not inside the place as far as she could tell. Why would they still be there, but keeping their distance from the castle? Unless… could the castle still be holding out after all? As much as she wanted to believe that, she was afraid to in case the hope was a false one.

She was not entirely certain how long it had been since the Orlesians had reached Winterfell, but it had to be a few days at least. It would take a few more days at least reach the home of the Starks. Even if time hadn't yet run out, there could not be much left. With this in mind she had ordered a forced march to cut down on travel time. She hated asking this of her soldiers so soon after the hell they had just been through, but this was war, and in war you sometimes had to push your soldier's to their limit if you wanted to win. The forced march would mean that her troops would reach the enemy tired and so less effective. On the other hand by moving quickly the odds of catching the Orlesian forces unawares were better, which had been the main point she had used in selling the decision to Grey Worm and her other officers. The element of surprise was very important, since the Grand Army might outnumber her forces by around twenty thousand. Drogon would balance those odds of cource, but it would not hurt to have another advantage in their arsenal come the day of battle.

She broke off from her musing's when she noted Meera approaching, the other woman's hand now wrapped in bandages.

"Your Grace. You wished to speak with me?" Meera said.

"Yes. To thank you. What you have done for us, I don't think there is any way to overstate how much it means. If things go our way from now on you may have won the war for us. If there is any reward you wish that is within my power to grant, name it and it shall be yours." Daenerys said.

Meera smiled. "Win the war and let us go back to living our lives in peace. Beyond that I don't think there is much that you can give that is of use to us in the life my people lead."

"I shall do my best then." The Queen said. "You have done much for the war effort already. First in keeping the Orlesian raiders off us the best you could while we were stuck here, then in this. If you want to lead your people home now I think that is more than fair. But if you choose to join us I could certainly use the help."

Meera considered. "I'll ask. But I won't force anyone to come with you." She said finally.

"I would not want them with me unless they were willing." Daenerys assured.

"I'm not very fond of war myself. Even so I would come with you if I could, just to stay true to the oaths of my family. Unfortunately…" Meera said, raising her bandaged hand.

"I understand." Daenerys said. "You need to heal. Do so, and do it with pride, as a hero."

Meera shook her head. "Not a hero. Just someone who tries to do the right thing as best she can."

"Incidentally that is the perfect description of a hero. Ordinary people can do great things when they have to, and you are not so ordinary. You are the head of a notable northern family. To my shame I must admit it is a House often overlooked by the South Kingdom, shunned even. But no less important." Daenerys countered.

"Your Grace!" Grey Worm called out then, strolling over. "A raven from Yara Greyjoy. Arrived just moments ago." He said, handing her the scroll.

Daenerys read the words quickly, then a relieved smile broke out on her features. "She heeded my command. Not happily, but she did."

"So she will attack the Orlesian navy then?" Grey Worm said.

"According to this she left a portion of her forces to guard against Qunari incursions, but the rest have set sail, sailing around Westeros as we speak." Daenerys said.

"It feels like things are finally going our way." She said, all smiles. But then her expression turned serious again.

"And we are going to need that. In the next battle the Imperials must be defeated. If we succeed we will be back in the race and have a chance of winning this war. If we lose… then we cannot afford to continue resisting, not with other enemies waiting for the opportunity. If our army is defeated in the next battle we will have no choice but to surrender. The next battle will decide the outcome of this war. Make sure every soldier in my army understands that, and fights accordingly." Daenerys told him.

Grey Worm nodded gravely. In a few more days the victor of this war would be known.


	46. Chapter 45

**Chapter 45; Until the end;**

**Characters of the chapter**

**Alexander de Rozien, **Chevalier of Orlais, Marshall of the Grand Army of Orlais, supreme commander of the Orlesian invasion of Westeros

**Edmond Brahms, **Knight of Nevarra, Military advisor to the court of King Jon

**Jon Snow, **also known as Aegon Targaryen and Jon Stark, King of the North Kingdom of the Twin Kingdoms

**Kieran, **Agent of the Inquisition, mage advisor to the court of King Jon

**Ynessa des Montagnes, **Chevalier of Orlais, Duelling Champion to de Rozien, Chosen Sword of Orlais

_**Cursive/Bold text is in Orlesian**_

Ynessa stared at the castle where the lights of the northern defenders still illuminated the night. By now she and the army had expected that castle to be theirs. But the enemy had proven resilient beyond all expectations. Each day that had passed she had been concerned that the King would manage to get himself killed before she could devise a way to get at him. But he too had managed to defy expectations by continuing to survive.

She had not yet dared to ask the Marshal to forgive her transgressions and permit her to take part in the battle. She would only get one shot at asking that, and if she messed that up then that would be her last chance to get what she wanted gone. Now the time had come. The passage of time and lack of progress in the siege would make him more amenable to her proposition. And she had a gut feeling this would be the last chance to ask, so she had nothing to lose at this point.

She watched the castle for a while longer, listening to some of the soldiers singing a lively but off note rendition of *Empress of fire* (adjusted to accommodate the current ruler of Orlais of course). It seemed that despite the setbacks in this siege morale remained high among the troops. And why not? The foe inside Winterfell could struggle all they wished. In the end it would change not a thing. Sooner or later the castle would be theirs, and with it the North. After that their attention would turn towards the South Kingdom, to put an end to this war for good.

She took a deep breath and departed towards the command tent. Along the way he exchanged a nod with Michel. She could see it in his eyes that he knew what she was up to. In some ways he disapproved that she was still insisting on this course of action even after being told no by her superiors. But he had not gotten in her way, for which she was pleased. He did not like it, but he understood that there was no way to stop her in the end. If her talk with the Marshal went poorly she would sulk and eventually move on to the next challenge somewhere else. This was her way of life, and she was lost to it. Even if she wished to, she could not help herself. There were none who could.

"…_**I'm afraid the situation is what it is."**_ Gagnon said as she entered the tent. _**"Admiral Baudin has failed to capture White Harbor. Three major assaults were attempted, and each eventually failed. Now she is refusing to risk any more of her troops, making herself content with blockade duties and daily bombardments of the city. She believes that a naval reprisal on behalf of the Twin Kingdoms is inevitable and wishes to maintain the combat effectiveness of her fleet, so I'm afraid there is no way to convince her to change her mind about this."**_

"_**I suppose I should have not expected any differently. Never send a sailor to do a soldier's job." **_The Marshall grumbled. _**"I suppose that we must attend to the capture of that city ourselves, once the situation here is resolved. Maker take it all. We can only be grateful that our failure to capture that city has not yet compromised our ability to supply our army." **_

"_**If her instincts are correct I hope she is better in a naval engagement than she is in attacking a land target." **_He added.

"_**Indeed My Lord. Her concerns aren't entirely unfounded though. The only reason a naval threat has not materialized until now has been the time it has taken for the enemy to gather. By now they have had that time and for all we know might already be on their way to attack us. Indeed some pirates showed up carrying goods they had captured for our navy. From them we have heard unconfirmed rumors that a large enemy fleet is in fact making its way around Westeros." **_Gagnon said.

"_**I would prefer solid intelligence to rumors Gagnon." **_Alexander said dryly.

"_**I know. So would I. Unfortunately in my profession I have learned that rumors and information often end up being interchangeable terms." **_Gagnon said.

Alexander chuckled. _**"Yes. Military intelligence often has the same chronic issue. Unfortunate realities of both our professions I would say."**_

"_**But back to the matter at hand." **_He said, and only then became aware of Ynessa's presence.

"_**Ynessa. What are you doing here?" **_He asked.

"_**My Lord. There is a matter I need to discuss, if I am permitted to do so." **_She said. _**"It is my understanding that you intend to attempt one last assault before unleashing the trebuchets on the castle."**_

The Marshal sighed. _**"Not this again. I thought I had made myself clear." **_

"_**You did My Lord. But please, hear me out. Surely I can be permitted that much at least?" **_She said.

The Marshal considered, then nodded reluctantly.

"_**I... my past actions in pursuing the King were in error. It was a grave display of arrogance that others paid for with their lives. I am sorry for that, and for my reaction to the penalty you issued. The punishment you ordered was just, and merciful considering the circumstances. I see that now." **_She said, trying her best to sound as humble as possible. Now if ever it was a time to swallow her pride.

"_**Do you honestly believe it so easy? Are you such a child that you think that you think you can just say you're sorry after a regiment has been destroyed under your command and expect all to be well?" **_The Marshal demanded.

"_**No ser, I do not. What I do believe is that I owe a blood debt to those I got killed. I wish to atone for them, beginning now. And blood can only be repaid in blood. In the blood of the Empire's enemies, or my own. And in the blood of our fellow soldiers being kept in their veins, where it belongs." **_She said.

"_**I think we both know that is not why you ask this. You still want to fight the King, and you think I will now permit you to do so. That is what you are truly after." **_He said.

"_**You do not intend to let the King live. Not after everything that he has put you through. Not after he turned down your offer. He will die, regardless whether or not it is I that kills him." **_She pointed out calmly.

"_**You do not care about him. What you do care about is getting that castle intact. You care about sparing the lives of as many of your soldiers as you can. I can give you those things. My involvement can tilt the balance, give our troops a foothold inside their defense and deliver Winterfell to you without demolishing it with siege weapons. And my efforts will save lives, to begin atoning for the lives I lost in my pride. So if you get what you want, do you care about my motivations?" **_She said.

"_**I do care. You need to have learned your lesson." **_The Marshal said.

"_**I have. I do not ask to be placed in command ever again. I ask only to serve my Empire in the only way I know how. I will never again risk any lives but my own." **_She said.

"_**Let me go there My Lord, please. Let me go there and I will win this fight for you. Or if you truly will not do so, then send me home, because clearly I am not serving any useful purpose sitting in your camp." **_She finished.

There was a long pause as the Marshall considered.

"_**Ynessa des Montagnes, will you from this moment henceforth swear to obey my commands in everything, to only slay the enemies you are directed to slay, and to never again disobey my orders to you, whether they be delivered directly or indirectly through other superior officers?" **_He then asked.

"_**I swear this My Lord." **_She said at once.

"_**By what do you swear this?" **_De Rozien demanded.

"_**By the Maker. On my honor. On my life. And he" -**_She pointed at Gagnon- _**"will be my witness of this vow. By the virtue of his trade he will know with certainty if I break my word.**__**"**_

"_**Remember what I told King Jon at the beginning of this siege? A Chevalier's word is their honor, and their honor is their life. You are a Chevalier, bound by our code, so I will only ask this once: Do you understand the severity of your vow? Do you respect it?" **_He asked.

"_**I understand, and I respect this oath." **_Ynessa said firmly.

Alexander nodded. _**"Then participate in the next assault. Maker watch over you. But now I am very busy, so out."**_

Ynessa bowed quickly and departed. Once outside she waited until she was far enough away that she was sure that the Marshall could not hear her.

"_**YEEEEES!" **_She then shouted to the skies.

* * *

Edmond walked the wall around Winterfell, coming across a northern soldier sitting near the entrance to one of the towers, leaning against the stones of the tower's body. His spear lay at his feet and he was snoring.

"Hey! Don't sleep on guard duty." Edmond said to him in a hushed tone, shaking him awake. The soldier slowly stood back on his feet, leaning on his spear for support, staring at him with bleary eyes.

"Sorry, ser. I'm just… so tired. It's been so long." The soldier mumbled, lowering his gaze to the ground, sounding absolutely exhausted.

"I know, I know. None of us are getting enough sleep. The Orlesian fucks won't let us." Edmond admitted. "It's the fifth day now, and I think I've gotten less than seven hours of sleep in total that whole time."

"It's Millet, right? Your name?" He asked of the soldier.

"Yes ser. Jim Millet, ser." The soldier replied.

"Thought so. Listen, Jim. I know you are tired, but if the Orlesians come over the walls and find you sleeping on watch they'll kill you, and then the rest of us. So for the sake of everyone, you must do whatever you have to do to remain awake and alert." Edmond said, placing a reassuring hand on Millet's shoulder.

"Do you think you can do this? I need an honest answer now. There's no shame in saying you can't." He asked.

Millet considered for a moment. "I can handle it ser. I promise." He said then, straightening his back.

Edmond smiled. "That's good enough for me."

"I'll send someone to share the watch with you as soon as I can. It's easier to remain awake when you have someone to talk to." He said walking past Millet to continue his rounds, to which the soldier nodded.

Edmond passed through the tower's entrance, greeting some of the soldiers inside. He exchanged smiles with Lisa, one of the handful of women to volunteer to defend Winterfell. She was an able fighter, and also one of the prettiest women among the defenders. She was always prone to wide toothy smiles and laughter, helping to keep all their spirits up. Even when she had caught an Orlesian spear in her mouth that had dislodged half the teeth on the left side of her face it seemed to have done nothing to dampen her sunny disposition. If anything she seemed amused by the disquiet she could cause when she smiled now and the gap in her mouth showed.

He nodded to Bors. He was a man who wetted himself before every battle but fought like a demon when he was in the moment. A one man berserk charge on his part had once routed an entire squad of Orlesians that had managed to gain the walls. Two imperial soldiers had been killed in that ruckus, and the rest were scared back to their camp, frightened out of their wits. The Orlesians had to have thought that an entire enemy platoon was descending upon them instead of a single madman, so swift had been their departure.

Emerging from the tower he suddenly had violent fit of coughing. Dark rainclouds had gathered overhead during the previous day and night, finally bringing the promise of rain to the dried grasslands outside and making the air chilly, but this was not the reason for his cough. For the last few days a fever had been bothering him more and more, slowing his gait and making his every move slow and clumsy. He had been advised to seek treatment, but he knew there were soldiers in far greater need than he was, and so he had declined.

He briefly stopped to look over the battlements at the Orlesian encampment. On the outskirts of the camp trebuchets were being assembled. Meanwhile several ballistae had already been brought to the field and were in the process of being angled towards the walls. Clearly the imperials were starting to run out of patience. They would not allow this situation to drag on for very much longer.

"Fifth day." He thought to himself. After the all-out assault on the first day had failed, the imperials had settled to slowly squeezing them to death. They had organized a rotation among their soldiers, so each time they launched an assault they were able to do so with fresh troops. Winterfell's defenders were too few to do so on their part, so little by little they were getting exhausted to submission. Even during the nights Orlesian marksmen preyed on anyone who carelessly showed their heads above the battlements. Surprise attacks were common, depriving them of sleep or any other relief from stress.

Although each such attack had been repulsed thus far, each time the Imperials had chipped away at the defenders, leaving their ranks a little bit thinner. At this time they numbered around third of their original strength of three thousand, the best and luckiest of them left alive. Yet for every one of the defenders that had been slain, the enemy had lost two. They lay on the fields surrounding the castle, those that had managed to gain the walls tossed back down at the end of the day. The Imperials had made attempts to retrieve their fallen, only to lose more lives to northerner arrows. Neither Edmond nor the King had made any comment on this behavior on behalf of their soldiers except to advice them to conserve ammunition, to only take shots that were sure to result in a kill. It appeared that even Jon's famous sense of honor was running thin in the face of this endless battery of assaults they had been subjected to. The enemy was treating them like cornered rats, so it was only natural that they fought like them. And the pragmatists among them saw that every kill they made was one more the enemy would not be sending against them in the next attack.

The specialist assault troops dubbed bag-heads by the defenders were perhaps the worst of their opponents. Every encounter they had with them seemed guaranteed to result in heavy casualties, even after they had started to counter them with teams using their captured equipment to protect themselves from the gas they employed. Fortunately they did not seem to number very many, seeing as how sparingly the enemy was deploying them. And on the upside their gas grenades had proven to be very effective in aiding their defense during difficult moments in their struggle for survival, of which there had been many.

They had lost the Godswood during the second day of the battle. The Orlesians had managed to scale the relatively low wall there and overwhelm their defenders in the woods. The defenders had beaten a swift retreat, sealing the gate between the Godswood and the castle proper. The gas grenades had proven their value there, keeping the enemy from exploiting their breakthrough to make it deeper into the castle. After the battle the Orlesians had, in a ruthless display of contempt, set fire to the godswood. The woods were now a mess of ash and blackened tree trunks, smoke rising to the sky even days after the event. The blow to the northerner morale had been heavy, since for the majority of them the forest had been sacred ground, the site of their gods, now violated by avowed worshippers of the Maker. Even Lord Brandon, never given over to emotions, had reacted with some distress, although for him his reason was more pragmatic, since Winterfell's godswood was his link to the weirwood network, the loss diminishing his powers to a degree.

Those among the defenders who had the misfortune to be confessed followers of the Chant had received their fair share of bitterness from the others because of the actions of the Imperials, particularly those like Edmond who where of Thedosian descent. Fortunately comradeship in arms and shared hardships had soon erased such feelings. Clearly the Orlesians had intended their actions to break the will of the defenders, but it was starting to look like the exact opposite had happened. Shock and dismay had been the first reactions to what had been done certainly, but it was followed by a grim determination to keep on fighting and make the enemy pay for their blasphemy.

King Jon had later suggested a counterattack to retake the godswood, but Edmond had advised against it. No doubt the Orlesians had already taken steps to remove the anti-magic wards that master Kieran had installed, so any attack to reclaim the Godswood would almost certainly result in heavy losses. Even if the Godswood was somehow retaken the defenders would be spread so thin that it could not be guaranteed that they would not lose it again in the next assault, alongside who knows what else with it? Realizing that to fight over the Godswood would cost lives without an adequate reason, King Jon had reluctantly accepted the council of his military advisor, and the Godswood had been abandoned, the only portion of Winterfell lost to the enemy thus far in this siege.

During the night between the fourth and fifth days of the siege disaster had almost struck. An enemy squad had managed to sneak past their night guards and make it to the gatehouse, killing the people stationed there and getting to work on opening Winterfell's gates. Only a last minute premonition from lord Brandon had saved them then, sending them scrambling to defend Winterfells gates. What followed was an intense, desperate struggle for control of the gatehouse, with the gates open for several frightening minutes, a column of Orlesian Chevaliers that had been waiting for this moment riding full tilt to get inside the castle. Once again the captured gas grenades had been invaluable. Dropped from the battlements they had bought just enough time to close the gates in front of the enemy's noses. The few enemies that had made it inside before the gates were closed were finished off in a bitter final action of the night, the Chevaliers fighting to the end, taking as many of the defenders with them as they could. Even as they were enemies Edmond had to admire their courage and loyalty to their nation.

After the attack Jon had ordered the watch to be doubled for the night, a necessary step to protect against further attacks all had agreed. Even so that order was a compounding factor in the exhaustion that plagued their ranks. But what else was there to do? With their backs against the wall and their manpower stretched to a breaking point, they had had no choice but to choose the lesser of two evils.

Moving on, descending from the walls to the courtyard, he briefly stopped to talk with Robert at the bottom of the stairs. Robert was a somewhat older man, an eager volunteer. Due to his age he was mostly kept out of direct frontline combat, given a post of protecting one of the staircases against enemies that tried to make it down from the wall. That did not mean that he had not seen his share of combat, far from it. Once, during a bad assault when the Orlesians had managed to briefly secure a bridgehead on the walls, he had protected the staircase alone, holding his ground long enough for the section of wall to be reinforced and beat the Orlesians back. During the fight he had killed four Orlesian soldiers, sustaining no fewer than twenty wounds of various severity. His courage in holding the line had earned him praise from King Jon and Lady Sansa both. Afterwards he had refused mage treatment on anything except the most severe injuries that he had sustained, stating that there were others who had greater needs than his. Unbelievably he had survived his injuries and had insisted on being put back on duty. So he continued to man his post at the base of the stairs, although now he had a very bad limp caused by a shattered kneecap and a nasty sounding wheeze due to a punctured lung, both injuries refusing to heal properly despite magic being involved.

The last stop on his rounds was in the castle's kitchens, where he talked with Thomas, their resident cook. Despite not having taken part in the fighting directly, his contribution to their efforts could not be overstated. His soups, stews and gruels had kept them going where little else could, nourishing their bodies and lifting their spirits. How he managed to keep making such good quality food while battle raged all around was unclear, but he did. At least one warm meal each day for everyone within the castle. That had been his promise when the siege started. So far that had been a promise he had managed to keep.

Edmond asked Thomas about the state of his supplies (all good) and inquired what the castle would be having for their meal today (pea soup with cow's meat). After that he noticed Jon emerging from the direction of the main hall that had been serving as the infirmary during this conflict. After three days and nights of relentless fighting the King in the north was looking about as haggard as everyone else in the castle. Edmond went to talk to the king, and the two men met at the center of the courtyard.

"Just came back from checking on Sansa. She's not doing so well. She puts on a brave face, but with so many lost despite her efforts… the feeling of futility she must be feeling… If she has to help treat one more wounded person I'm worried she'll lose her mind for good." Jon said, shaking his head, his voice full of exhausted sorrow.

"How are the men doing?" He asked.

"Straight up?" Edmond asked.

"Straight up. Were past pretending." Jon said, suppressing an involuntary yawn.

Edmond nodded, giving a slight smile despite everything. Even in a situation like this Jon would not accept any kind of sugarcoating of the facts.

"We are at a breaking point. Our ranks have been so badly thinned its starting to get difficult to get our defenses adequately manned. A lot of us are wounded. A lot of us are sick. Even with magic the healers are overwhelmed, the sheer demand for their services is more than they can handle. And our people are so exhausted they are falling asleep at their guard posts." He said.

"I see. That's… unfortunate." Jon said, bowing his head.

"I think we should abandon the outer walls, move our defenses inside the castle proper, where we will be able to concentrate our troops better. Otherwise we risk the enemy breaking through in their next assault." Edmond said.

"If we do that it will be the beginning of the end for us." Jon replied.

"Unfortunately I think we're already at that threshold. This is the fifth day of our resistance. Considering the odds arranged against us that's beyond incredible. It's the stuff of legends. I would count myself fortunate if I ever showed half the courage your people showed me. I'm proud to have been part of it all, to have fought at your side. But I don't think there'll be a sixth day. Even if our troops hold I saw the Orlesians setting up trebuchets outside. Unless something changes they'll end this fight today. I'm sorry." Edmond said.

"As if it was you who laid siege to Winterfell." Jon joked dryly. "Has… has there been any word from Daenerys?" He asked in a more serious tone.

Edmond shook his head. "There has been no news at all since the siege began. We just can't get word out. We don't know where anyone is, save for the army outside our walls."

"Hmm… maybe Bran would know. Perhaps I should ask him." Jon contemplated.

"He won't have time for you. And you would do well not to disturb him." A new voice spoke up. The two turned and saw Kieran walking to them, leaning heavily on his staff.

"Damn. Trying to save the Orlesians some trouble? You look half dead already." Edmond commented upon seeing him.

"Appropriate, since that is more or less how I feel. Days of ceaseless magical endeavors will do that to you. Still, it's Lord Brandon who' getting the worse half of the deal." Kieran said.

"How so?" Jon asked.

"He's dying for you. Over and over and over. It's what he's been doing these past several days. He wargs into animals, sometimes wolves, sometimes a flock of ravens, sometimes other things. And he attacks the Orlesians until they manage to kill the creatures he warged into. He feels their wound on himself, their death as his own."

"Gods… I had no idea." Jon gasped.

"I'm sure that you did not, he has not been very public about it. But that is why you should not bother him. Don't put him under any more strain than he already has been."

A shout coming from the walls suddenly interrupted the trio: "My King! Movement in the enemy camp! Looks like another assault is coming!"

"Oh crap, here we go again." Jon cursed. "Battlestations! Hold the line!" He shouted, drawing Longclaw and charging towards the walls. Edmond followed in his heels, while Kieran quickly went back to work on reinforcing the wards. Edmond's words about abandoning the walls still echoed in Jon's mind, but right now there is no time to consider them. For the moment there was nothing for them to do except to fight on as they had these past five days.

Until the very end.


	47. Chapter 46

**Chapter 46; The turn of the tide, part 1;**

**Characters of the chapter**

**Davos Seaworth **Knight of Westeros, Advisor to King Jon

**Jon Snow, **also known as Aegon Targaryen and Jon Stark, King of the North Kingdom of the Twin Kingdoms

**Ynessa des Montagnes, **Chevalier of Orlais, Duelling Champion to de Rozien, Chosen Sword of Orlais

Ynessa ran forward with the other Orlesian soldiers, her feet eating away the distance between her and the wall, doing her best not to trip on the bodies that littered the landscape. Beside them a new battering ram was being dragged towards the gate in the hopes it would succeed where the first one had failed. This time it's roof had been reinforced with sheets of steel and spare shields to protect it from fire dropped on it from above. All around her soldiers were dropping from arrows fired at them, adding to the bodies already at their feet. Behind them their own archers were sending clouds of arrows at the walls to suppress the enemy and give them at least some cover, but that could not only do so much. She wondered if it might have been a good idea to bring her shield along after all, having left the thing behind, so she would have her off hand free when she reached the top of the wall. In hindsight that decision was making this part of the approach more difficult.

When they reached the walls she helped a couple other soldiers raise a ladder, docking it securely against the wall. Around them other soldiers were doing the same. As soon as the ladders were docked stones began to rain on them, adding to the hail of arrows.

Ynessa was the first to start climbing up ladder. She was about halfway up when she had to throw herself to the side to dodge a rock about to fall on her. Her sudden move almost made her lose her grip and fall, but she managed to hold on. The stone barely missed her, skidding along her armor and clothes. The soldier right behind her was not as lucky. The stone bounced off his helmet, crumpling it. He swayed on the ladder for a moment, slipped off and fell down, breaking his neck as he landed. Ynessa continued to climb upwards, knowing there was nothing to be done except keep going. Next she saw how a large kettle was raised atop the wall, then promptly upended, pouring boiling oil on the ladder next to hers. The oil doused everyone on the ladder and plenty more who were standing just underneath it. She could not help but wince as she heard people screaming in immense pain, saw them falling off the ladder like leaves, trashing on the ground, clawing at their own armor. Of all weapons of war she had seen, boiling oil was among the most vicious. It did not necessarily kill at once, instead causing horrid, excruciating injuries and a slow death later on. She truly pitied the poor sods that had been hit with it. The only weapons she considered more brutal were the gas grenades invented by their alchemists. Now there was a weapon she never wanted to be on the wrong side of.

Despite the death and horror all around her, she was pleased that she was finally allowed to be here. Finally she could sate her craving for combat. Finally she could seek out the King and have with him the clash she had desired for so long.

It would be so glorious!

Finally reaching the top of the wall, she drew the Sunblade from its sheath and jumped down from the crenellations, putting her sword through an archer as she did. She freed her blade and quickly slashed left and right, felling an opponent with both blows. Another enemy moved to attack her, but Sunblade met his blow, as before on many occasions burning straight through the metal in an instant, leaving her opponent defenseless. She quickly killed him too with a quick jab, a smoking hole left on his chest as he fell flat on his back. Other Orlesian soldiers began to reach the top and the bridgehead she had managed to form, taking the fight to the defenders, and Ynessa moved on, going on her hunt, walking along the wall with brisk steps. Now and then one of the defenders sought to challenge her. She cut down each in short order, barely slowing her pace as she did so. Right now these others were an irritant to her, a persistent distraction as she hunted her real objective. They would not deny her.

Eventually she managed to fight her way into an area where the defenders were not concentrated, and no more enemies challenged her for a moment. She was moving on along the wall when she came face to face with an older man, standing atop a flight of stairs, while she was at their base, the two eyeing each other warily. She noted how, like her, he was holding his sword in his left hand, although for him his reason for doing so was not preference, but rather the fact that his right hand was missing its fingers except for its thumb. Then her eyes flashed with recognition.

"I know you. You were at the parlay the Marshall arranged. You're Davos Seaworth, aren't you?" She said.

"I am." He said, his voice stone cold.

"Then where's your King, ser Davos? I seek him." She asked.

"If you want to get to him, you'll have to go through me." He said defiantly.

Ynessa sighed at the cliché response. She took a step forward on the stairs, making Davos retreat a step. "Go away old man. You can't beat me, and I'm not after you. Only your master."

Davos did not leave.

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. I just cut through a dozen of you like carving a cake. What's one more?" With that she darted forward, closing the gap between them in a heartbeat, slashing at him. He barely managed to avoid her first attack, then instinctively tried to block the next one with his sword, only to have it snapped in half by the Sunblade. The golden blade kept going, slicing a line into his shoulder, making him shout in pain. Then a punch to the chest made him fall on his back against the staircase, bruising him as he did. Next he found the Sunblade pointed at his throat. Any closer and it would set his beard on fire. The fight was over, having lasted for only a few heartbeats.

"Where is the King?" The Chevalier asked again, her voice full of quiet menace. Suddenly Ynessa heard a snarl of something large and fast approaching coming from behind her. She turned quickly, in time to see the biggest wolf she had ever seen lunging at her. Then the wolf was on her, pushing her to the ground as well and latching his teeth to her throat. She could feel the immense pressure shutting her windpipe, feel the teeth gnawing at the gorget that protected her neck, trying to rip it away. Most alarmingly she could feel the pain as her head was being twisted sideways, neck straining and ready to snap. Fighting back panic and with only seconds left to live, she did the only thing she could and tried to attack the wolf. She could not turn the blade in her hand enough to give herself a sharp edge, all she managed to do was to slap the flat of his blade against the wolf's flank. Fortunately for her the Sunblade was still scalding hot.

The effect was immediate. The wolf yelped and jumped off her, stumbling down the steps, barely managing to keep himself upright, a long blackened line of burnt skin left against his white fur. For a moment Ynessa simply lay there, coughing and gasping for breath. Her gorget was crumpled and was scratching her neck, so she pulled it off and threw it away from her. Then, with shuddering breaths, she stood up and saw the wolf at the base of the stairs, snarling at her, keeping his wounded flank turned away from her. But he was not moving to attack her again. She glanced behind her to make sure that Davos was not getting up to ambush her, then advanced on the wolf. Ghost moved back, trying to frighten her away with a fierce growl, too defiant to flee but unwilling to challenge her again after the injury he had received after his first attempt. Ynessa was not deterred. She moved forward, raising her weapon, intending to finish the wolf off.

"Leave him be! Leave them both be!" She heard someone shout behind her, accompanied by the sound of a sword leaving its sheath. It was enough to make her stop short of landing her blow. She turned herself sideways so she could keep Sunblade pointed at the wolf while she turned to see who had spoken, mildly irked that she had been interrupted yet again. But then her eyes lit with delight, for it was Jon who had spoken, standing atop the same stairs she and Davos had been fighting on. Apparently the Onion Knight had managed to clamber to his feet, as he was now standing at Jon's side, his free hand on his wounded soldier.

"Gladly Your Grace. For it seems I have what I came for." She said to the King.

Jon looked at the wound on Davos's shoulder with concern, gave him a reassuring nod, then boldly steeped between his chief advisor and the Chevalier.

"What is it you claim to have? Death? Destruction? Is that all you're good for?" Jon demanded, walking down the steps.

"No. No. None of those things. I care not for them. What I have… is the duel of a lifetime. A worthy opponent. At long last." She said, smiling behind her mask. She nodded towards Ghost, then at Davos. "Send them away and I swear not to harm them further. Others may, but I will not. It will be just you, against me. Fair."

"Ghost, away!" Jon commanded his direwolf. "Away!" He repeated with more emphasis when Ghost seemed to hesitate. Reluctantly the wolf obeyed him, running off in the opposite direction.

"Davos, you're injured. Go have your wound tended to." He told the Onion Knight next, not moving his eyes from Ynessa. "Go. This is not a fight you can help me with, especially when wounded." He added when Davos tried to protest. Although he did not wish to, Davos quietly accepted the King's reasoning and backed away as well, leaving Jon alone with the Orlesian woman on this strip of wall.

"You will not risk the lives of those closest to you. You cannot save them, but you continue to try. I commend you. Unfortunate it is that such a great man must die this day. But such is my nature. Such is my destiny." Ynessa said, nodding her approval.

"You will not harm my family. And I'm not dead yet. Nor will I be today." Jon said in challenge.

"You will. To me. To another. It matters not. This battle ends today. No help has come for you. Honestly, it would be better for you if it were me that kills you. At least I will have proper appreciation for the deed. These soldiers… you are just a target to them. Something to be destroyed so it is no longer in their way. But I respect you. Your skills, your dedication… your courage, even in the face of defeat. And I will remember you even after you are gone." She said, slowly closing the gap between them until she was standing right in front of him.

"But I will speak no more. I have waited long enough for this. Don't disappoint me now. Don't you dare." She said before suddenly moving forward and attacking Jon. Longclaw expertly rose to counter her attack, and their blades met. Ynessa expected the King's sword to fall apart on contact, just like all the others. She would have found that unfortunate, far too easy a resolution to the confrontation she wanted, but not enough so to stay her hand. But that was not what happened. Instead Longclaw held firm before her attack, and where the swords met, the golden light of the Sunblade transformed into a deep blue color.

Their blades still locked together, Ynessa tilted her head sideways. "A mage-blade? Here?" She said, astonishment in her voice. She pushed Jon back to free her blade, and as their swords parted, the blue light transitioned back to the normal golden light of the Sunblade.

"Well, at least now this is interesting." She said before launching herself to another attack. And so the two fought there at the walls of Winterfell, while all-out battle raged around them. Each time their blades struck together there was a flash of blue light.

Jon quickly realized that the two were quite evenly matched. The fact that his opponent was left handed was making this fight a lot more difficult for him. All the usual rules were reversed, throwing off his instincts. As a result he had to narrowly dodge the Sunblade on more than one occasion. And the Orlesian wasn't afraid to fight with her other hand either. Several times he managed parry a sword strike, only to be punched in the face by a gauntleted fist.

Now and then one managed to land a hit on the other, but even their most successful attacks were little more than flesh wounds. Not one of them was enough to resolve their clash, and so their deadly dance continued. Eventually the two drifted back into the area where the Orlesian assault was ongoing. There others were on occasion drawn to their duel, Jon set upon by Orlesian soldiers and Ynessa likewise attacked by the defenders of Winterfell. Those that got themselves involved were swiftly cut down by the one they tried to attack, causing only momentary disruptions in their duel. In truth neither of the two wanted those distractions to be there, not even for their own benefit. Ynessa didn't want her people to intervene because she wanted her victory over the King in the North to be hers and hers alone. Jon on the other hand didn't want to risk lives against an opponent that he already knew to be a better fighter than most of the soldiers he had. And so both instinctively tried to keep away from the hottest pockets of the fighting. They even went so far as to shout warnings to their own when they drew near, both in their own languages, warnings to stay away, for whatever good that did.

Near Winterfell's gatehouse Jon grunted, parrying another attack, the sheer relentless rain of blows given and received beginning to numb his arm. He followed the parry with an attack of his own, followed by another parry. He had just enough time to realize the opening the parry left in his defenses and curse the confusing nature of this enemy before the pommel of a sword struck him across the face. However, as he was reeling from that blow, spitting blood, he happened to spot an opportunity. Putting all his strength behind his blow she punched her in her now unprotected throat. Having raised her sword for another attack, thinking to press the advantage she thought she had gained, she was caught completely by surprise. Giving out a gurgle she staggered backwards, nearly falling over, raising a hand to her throat, the world around her forgotten for the briefest of moments. Jon took advantage of the moment and, a roar leaving his throat, slashed at her, splitting the metal mask on her helm in half. She doubled over, giving out a gasp of pain, blood dribbling from the crack on her helmet. Jon moved forward, intending to finish her off, only for him to have to quickly retreat away from a flurry of blows from her. Her swings were wild, lacking the form typical of her, but they were nonetheless enough to drive him back.

Cursing in Orlesian she yanked her helmet from her head and threw it at the King. Her aim was off, and Jon easily dodged the projectile. The helmet banged on the body of a tower just behind Jon before tumbling over the edge of the wall and toward the ground. Tuning out the pain, Ynessa readied her sword once more, moving toward the King, somewhat more cautiously than before.

She was about to launch herself to another attack until suddenly a roar coming somewhere far overhead made her freeze, turning her gaze upwards. In that moment Jon noted that the fighting had come to an abrupt halt, every pair of eyes turned to the sky, whether Orlesian or Northern. Jon lifted his gaze as well a sudden sense of hope in his heart.

He was perhaps the only one of them here that had recognized the sound for what it was.

What he saw was Drogon, levelling out of a steep descent, flying low over Winterfell towards the outer wall. A familiar woman was seated atop the dragon, her silvery hair flying in the wind, almost like a banner. As soon as his neck passed the wall the dragon unleashed a blast of fire, carving a furrow through the Orlesian attackers, hundreds set ablaze in a heartbeat. The Dragon carried on to the Orlesian camp, strafing that place with fire as well, a river of flame cutting the camp in two. The Orlesian soldiers were disciplined, but the sight of their comrades burning due to a huge sky borne monstrosity was too much for many. Both at the walls and at the camp several Orlesians lost heart at the sight and routed.

Almost immediately after the dragon had appeared a horn sounded in the distance, and the Queen's army began streaming to the field, block after block advancing toward the enemy, the three headed dragon banner at their head. Alongside the Royal Army marched the forces of her lords, their banners accompanying that of House Targaryen to war. The Orlesian forces whose morale remained unbroken and who were not committed against the walls of Winterfell began to respond to the development, swarming from their camp and hastily forming battle lines to face the new enemy.

From the Targaryen side more horns sounded, both as a challenge to the enemy, and a greeting to their northern comrades, promising long overdue relief to them in their struggles. And what a welcome promise it was. Until this moment the defenders of had pressed grimly onwards, all but convinced that their efforts were leading to an inevitable defeat and death at the hands of their enemies, that the best they could hope for was to fight until the end and maybe help those that would come after them win the war where they could not. But now, suddenly, they had hope again. Now they had a fighting chance.

For Daenerys Targaryen had come at last.

Even as outside the battle was entering a new phase, on the wall of Winterfell silence continued to reign for the time being. Still mesmerized by what she had seen, she slowly turned her gaze back to the king, their eyes meeting. Jon gave her a triumphant smirk. "See? It's you who have lost." Jon said with that look, without ever uttering a word.

At first Ynessa looked shocked at the King's expression. Then her face twisted with anger. Screaming a scream of rage at the top of her lungs she charged at him, launching herself into a storm of attack so intense that even Jon was put on the defensive in a matter of moments. Her savage assault was enough to break the stillness, the fighting between defenders and attackers beginning anew, as fierce as ever.

Even though many had fled with the arrival of the dragon, and others were heading back to join with their comrades facing Daenerys's Royal army, the rest of the Orlesians continued their assault on Winterfell relentlessly, perhaps hoping to get inside a defensible position that the dragon and his rider would be reluctant to target. And so now the attackers fought twice as hard, their desperation lending them strength. The ram, which the dragonfire had miraculously missed, crossed the final distance to the gates, the charred remains of the previous ram cleared out of its path. As soon as the ram began to batter down the gates the defenders reacted, trying to destroy it as before, although the numerous Orlesian soldiers already atop the wall were making this difficult. Stolen gas grenades were dropped on the ram, but to the defender's surprise this had no effect. Unbeknownst to them the ram crew had been fitted with the same gear that the bag-heads used, protecting them from the effects of the gas. Pots of oil struck the roof of the ram, followed by torches. But the flames could not take hold on the fortified structures of the roof and soon guttered out, leaving large blackened splotches on the metal.

Jon meanwhile was pressed hard by the Orlesian Chevalier, forced to give ground before her assault. Blow after blow she rained on him leaving him no time to make attacks of his own. She drove him to the gatehouse's stairwell and up the steps, Sunblade leaving glowing marks on the walls of the stairwell as she pursued him. When the two finally emerged atop the gatehouse she was set upon by three northmen. Even in her enraged state she proved more than a match for all of them, cutting them down in a matter of seconds. Jon did manage to take advantage of her distraction to strike at her, but she simply deflected his blade, and her counterattack would have cut his chest open had he not jumped backwards at that exact moment. With the three northmen dead, no one besides the King remained to oppose her up here. In that moment Jon understood that he had to change things up. She had to be stopped, and to gain an advantage he would have to do something drastic.

As Ynessa was going for another attack Jon suddenly dropped Longclaw and grabbed her wrist with both hands. At first Ynessa tried to wrench her arm free, and when she did not succeed she drove her knee to his stomach. Jon grunted as air was driven from his lungs, but he held on. He freed one hand to pummel at her, giving her a backhanded strike to the face, then a punch to her stomach, the finally as she doubled over a knee to the jaw. Jon tried to land another blow as she was dazed, but her free arm intercepted, making Jon wince as his wrist painfully impacted her metal-encased arm. Her free hand then went for the dagger on her belt, only for Jon to catch her other wrist as well. Thinking quickly, he lowered his head, and slammed his forehead into her face, feeling her nose break. As she was reeling from that he threw his full weight forward, pinning the Chevalier against the crenellations. Even as she was wrestling with him to get free, Jon pushed her arms down, taking care not to get himself accidentally burned by the Sunblade. He then began to push her over the crenellations, using his knee to help with the lifting. Feeling her feet lift off the ground she realized his intent, and her struggles intensified. That was enough to slow Jon, but not stop him. Eventually he half pushed, half threw her over the edge and with a final terrified shout she fell, impacting the ground feet first.

Jon looked over edge, feeling utterly exhausted. Then she saw her still moving as she lay on her back on the ground. Still alive. Unbelievably, still alive. Jon gave a low curse, spitting on the floor of the tower, then went to retrieve Longclaw. He made his way down, in the moment ignoring the rhythmic crashing sounds made by the ram working to break through the gates.

Standing before her, it was obvious to Jon that Ynessa was gravely injured. Her legs were twisted and broken, blood slowly leaking out through the gaps in the armor, while Ynessa herself was still conscious, quietly mumbling to herself in Orlesian. From the way she moved Jon figured that her spine had been shattered by the fall as well, leaving her paralyzed from the waist down. Her weapons lay out of her reach, but even so Jon picked up the Sunblade as he approached, throwing it even further away. He placed himself over her, raising Longclaw, ready to plunge it through her.

"BEFORE you do that… hear me out…there's something I would ask you to do." Ynessa said weakly before he could, raising up one trembling hand, making Jon hesitate.

Briefly Jon was surprised by her words. Then he placed the tip of his sword to her throat, drawing a little blood. "What makes you think that you have any, ANY, right to ask for anything, invader? All the lives you took? The pain you've caused? Everything you would have done if I hadn't stopped you now? What your people are still doing out there right now?"

She gave him a sad smile. "No rights to anything, I know. But whatever I've done, whatever my crimes, I'm going to pay the price for it soon. I'm dying. I can feel it. I wanted to treat you honorably, as much as one can give to an enemy I was going to kill. Meant to. So I'd ask… listen to what I have to say, consider what I ask. After that… you can finish me off if you want, or leave me here. Won't make a difference. Please. It's not for me, not for the Empire. For my family. For my ancestors."

"Speak." Jon said coolly after a pause. "And do it quickly." He added, nodding towards the gate. "If they start looking like they're going to get through, you time will be up."

She nodded and produced a glass vial about as long as her hand was wide from somewhere inside her uniform, lifting it toward the King, fighting to stay conscious the whole time. Jon uncertainly took the vial from her , noticing the thick red fluid sloshing within.

"What in the hells in this? What's in here?" Jon demanded.

"Blood. My blood. The blood of others, my ancestors. Protected, preserved with magic." She said.

"What am I to do with it?" Jon asked, aghast.

"A tradition. Among my people. N-not Orlesian. Avvar. A group of warriors among my clan you see. A line, a legacy. A chain of heirs. Each in the chain took the strength of those that came before and added his own, to pass it on to an heir that was found suitable, through that vial. Each generation stronger, each… more. I was the last to receive it. I was supposed to pass it on long ago, but I tarried for far too long, and now I have no time. You vanquished me. You are worthy. What I would ask you to do is… drink half the blood to claim our strength, the refill the vial with your own blood. Then, when the time is right, pass the vial on to someone worthy, so those who came before can live on in another. Do this and our strength is yours to wield as you see fit, and you will be considered kin to our hold, so you can call on us in times of dire need.

Jon simply stared at her, not believing his ears. "This? This is what you would ask of me? To take part in some superstition of yours? "

"Please, Your Grace! I know you wish to punish me, but whatever my crimes I'm paying for them anyway. I beg of you, don't let my ancestors be destroyed for this. Don't make them pay the price for my mistakes. Save us, and our strength will be yours for all time." She pleaded, her voice breaking.

Jon considered. Even if he still considered this nothing more than a superstition, her voice told him that she took this seriously. This meant something to her. But did she deserve this mercy, this boon, after all the lives she had taken, all the blood she had spilled? He regarded the vial in his hands. It was such a fragile thing. The only reason it had survived thus far was because she had kept it safely inside her armor. If he wanted to deny her, all he needed to do was crush it in his hands, and then her precious legacy would be no more. It would be so easy… if he wished to do it. Yet on the other hand she had only fought for her people, for what she believed. She had been a worthy opponent by all accounts. And now she was dying. Did she really deserve to have insult added to injury?

Jon finally came to a decision. Giving a heavy sigh he uncorked the bottle and emptied half the vial's content down his throat. To his considerable surprise the liquid didn't taste like blood at all. Instead it had a peculiar sweet taste, like the juice of some fruit. As soon as the fluid passed his throat he felt stronger, the exhaustion of the last few days suddenly gone from him. He shot Ynessa a puzzled look. Then, taking care not to spill the remaining contents of the vial, he worked Longclaw into a position to cut his palm. Jon grimaced as the blade bit into his flesh, then placed his hand above the vial. Blood slowly dripped into the vial, refilling it anew. As soon as the vial was full again he closed it once more.

On the ground Ynessa smiled, crying tears of relief. "Thank you my king. Thank you for your mercy. Now we are kin. Now I and my ancestors stand with you. Use our power as you will, to defeat your enemies."

Then her smile vanished as there was a very loud crash at the gate, the wood cracking and bending where the halves met. "They're breaking through. You should go now. Go, and survive this day. Survive and pass what has been given to another worthy when the time is right." She told him, urgency in her voice.

Jon thought about finishing her off and giving her a clean death. But just then there was another violent impact against the gate, and he knew he was out of time.

"Fall back! Fall back to the keep!" He shouted as loud as he was able, then took off running towards the castle, leaving the wounded Orlesian where she lay.

"Mère? J'ai froid. Si froid. Je meurs. Mère, aide-moi. Je..." She muttered to herself, then breathed her last.

As soon as life left her the gates were shattered, and Orlesians soldiers began streaming through like water. With the walls now being abandoned by the retreating northerners more imperials were spilling over the walls and into the yard. They chased after the fleeing defenders, cutting down any they managed to catch. Just outside the inner gates leading inside the castle itself the northmen mounted a quick defense to buy more time for the rest of their number to make it through to safety. Jon was the last to enter, cutting down two Orlesian soldiers closest to the gate before he dove through, the gates closed and barred immediately after.

The defenders of Winterfell had hope again, but for now they had to retreat before the enemy and hope they would be able to hold out until victory was theirs.


	48. Chapter 47

**Chapter 47; The turn of the tide, Part 2;**

**Characters of the chapter**

**Alexander de Rozien, **Chevalier of Orlais, Marshall of the Grand Army of Orlais, supreme commander of the Orlesian invasion of Westeros

**Daenerys Targaryen, **The Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains, Queen of the of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men of the South, Queen of the South Kingdom of the Twin kingdoms and Protector of the Realm

**Deniel Fabre, **Master Engineer of the Orlesian military, head of the field engineering corps assigned to the Grand Army of Orlais

**Edmond Brahms, **Knight of Nevarra, Military advisor to the court of King Jon

**Ernest, **Captain in the Imperial army of Orlais

**Hannah of Starkhaven, **Ambassador on behalf of the College of Magi

**Jon Snow, **also known as Aegon Targaryen and Jon Stark, King of the North Kingdom of the Twin Kingdoms

**Kieran, **Agent of the Inquisition, mage advisor to the court of King Jon

**Michel de Chevin, **Chevalier of Orlais

**Sansa Stark, **Lady of Winterfell and the Eyrie**, **Wardeness of the North

_**Cursive/Bold text is in Orlesian**_

On the fields outside Winterfell chaos reigned. The forces of the Empire had been caught completely unawares, not expecting a second army. Most of them had been resting from earlier assaults, while a portion of their force had been continuing the attack against Winterfell itself. All their attention had been focused on the castle. Thinking the Queen's army to be contained below the Neck and all other Westerosi armies capable of being a serious threat to them already defeated, they had sent no scouts and set no sentries beyond the perimeter of their camp. No responder battalions had been ready to intercept an approaching enemy. Now they were scrambling from the camp in almost a panicked state, trying to form into at least some semblance of a battle line to face down the Royal Army bearing down on them. Daenerys for her part was not making that easy on them. The dragon strafed the Orlesian positions over and over, carving trenches of fire among them as the Queen's army drew ever nearer. Entire units were set ablaze just as they managed to negotiate through the flames and reform themselves, killing most and scattering the rest. Archers were firing on the dragon, trying to bring it down, but arrows were merely bouncing off of the dragon's tough hide. An enemy such as this was out of their class.

Just as it had been with all the other enemies that had tried to shoot down Drogon in the past…

The mages accompanying the army had the most success in engaging the dragon, while others among them were raising up barriers of arcane energies to deflect the flames, saving clusters of troops from being burned to death. While most of their attacks missed their marks as well, their accuracy was far greater than any other ranged weapon in the Orlesian army, often passing only a hairs breadth from their target. Some of their arcane abilities even had the ability to home in on their target, chasing after the dragon across the skies. Now and then a hit was scored. Directed by the Queen Drogon twisted and dodged and turned in the air, managing to avoid more serious hits, leaving only the weaker but more rapidly launched attacks against him. Nonetheless Daenerys knew she could not overstay her welcome. The longer she remained within range of the mages the more likely it was that one of them would manage to land a direct hit with a more powerful attack. Even if that did not happen, overtime smaller hits would start adding up, leading to more serious injuries for Drogon. Eventually she decided enough was enough and directed Drogon into an ascent, seeking cover amongst the gathering clouds, to cheers from the Orlesians.

"Let them cheer." Daenerys thought as her dragon rose higher and higher. "I am not fleeing. You have gained a brief respite from me, no more. I'll be back."

The Orlesians took advantage from the reprieve from dragon attacks to begin forming up their battle lines in earnest. Just in time for them as well, for the army of the South Kigdom drew near.

On one section of the Orlesian line Ernest's unit managed to get through the flames and join with their fellows. The colonel of his regiment had had the misfortune of being caught in one of the Dragon's attacks, so for now Ernest was in charge.

"_**Hurry! Hurry! Form up, form up, form up!" **_He shouted, shoving the slowest of his soldiers into position as they passed the corner of his eye he could see a large force of enemy light cavalry fast approaching, ululating as they came. May of the enemy sported long braids and carried bows and strange sickle shaped swords. He had been briefed about the Dothraki warriors that rode with the Dragon Queen's army, so he had a notion who these riders were. What surprised him was the lamellar armor worn by the enemy, for he had heard that Dothraki warriors rode into battle wearing little to no armor at all. Apparently these ones had learned different lessons from their peers and ancestors. In any event if the reputation of these so called Bloodriders of Queen Daenerys were remotely true, his people were in for a rough fight. But on the other hand men on horseback were what pikemen had been designed to defeat.

"_**Quickly! Prepare to repel cavalry! Deploy pikes! Crossbows, half-step right! Skirmishers to the flanks!" **_He shouted in a rapid procession. The first rank of pikemen knelt, placing their pikes upwards in a forty five degree angle from the ground, while the ranks behind them raised their weapons to the height of their shoulders. In this formation the horses charging their line would stop and get pushed into their pikes by the ones following behind. Or they would try to jump over the first line of pikes and catch a speartip in the belly, or horse and rider would be impaled by the rear ranks. Hearing the sound of hooves from his right Ernest turned his head and saw a large unit of chevaliers arriving, having also managed to negotiate the burning fields.

"Good." He thought. That meant that their right flank was adequately protected. Their left was protected by other friendly units and the flames the dragon had left behind.

As the Dothraki grew nearer the crossbowmen began firing on them while the rest of the Orlesians braced for the crash of cavalry against their line. It never came. Instead at the last second every Dothraki soldier made a disciplined turn to their right like a flock of bird or a school of fish, riding along the Orlesian line and unleashing a volley of arrows at point blank range that slew many imperial soldiers. The Orlesian crossbowmen fired back, and the mages unleashed their arcane powers in support. Several dothraki fell, but not enough. Then a horn sounded and the chevaliers moved forward, riding along the pikemen line and charged at the bloodriders. The dothraki promptly turned around and moved in the opposite direction, their lighter armor allowing them to stay just out of reach of the imperial riders. The chevaliers gave pursuit, so close their lances danced amongst the tail hairs of the dothraki horses. Suddenly the bloodriders turned in the saddle, continuing to ride on and unleashing a storm of arrows at the chevaliers. The dothraki bows were small, but very powerful, and at this range they easily penetrated even the plate armor of the chevaliers. Those that survived the volley nevertheless stubbornly continued to pursue the dothraki. The chevaliers weathered the first three volleys fired at them. The fourth made them hesitate, the fifth sent them into retreat and the sixth turned the retreat into a rout.

The pikemen watched the scene is shock. The chevaliers were the best troops in the Empire. And they had just been massacred by a far more lightly armed cavalry, one that by rights should have been smashed asunder in the Chevalier charge. Ernest gritted his teeth as he realized that the right flank was now exposed. The dothraki immediately resumed their attack on the infantry line. Some circled around the now exposed flank and started to cut down the skirmishers and crossbowmen, while others pursued the fleeing Chevaliers, firing arrows after them. The rest rode up and down along the line of pikemen, exchanging fire with the imperials. Both sides were sustaining a steadily rising number of casualties, with no clear advantage for either side. Suddenly the dothraki disengaged and rode away, continuing to fire arrows as they withdrew. For a second Ernest thought they had actually managed to defeat them, but then he noticed the royalist infantry coming into view from behind the parting cavalry. The dothraki cavalry had been screening the infantry's advance, and were now moving aside to let them engage.

"_**Adjust formation! Prepare to repel infantry!" **_Ernest shouted and the first rank stood up and levelled their pikes. Moments later the enemy infantry crashed against their line. The dothraki continued on to other imperial units on their way to reinforce the main line. Westerosi knights and other cavalry were joining with them, adding to the general mayhem at the rear of the pikemen.

Ernest put his pike through the shield of one opponent, then pushed the said shield down, allowing the soldier behind him to put his pike through the throat or their enemy. The enemy was fighting well, particularly the one's holding their center, troops differing in appearance from the other royalist soldiers. The fought with considerable discipline, seeming to be able to shrug off all pain. Ernest even spied one with his eye dangling out of his socket, continuing to fight as if nothing had happened. These had to be the Unsullied had heard spoken about.

For all the enemy's effort the Orlesians had the advantage for the moment. Their pikes were longer than even the spears of the Unsullied, so they were keeping the royalists at bay, while the crossbowmen behind them were continuously barraging the foe with bolts, thinning their ranks. Meanwhile other Orlesian units were moving in to join the battle. If their line held, if the enemy didn't get to attack them from behind, they would be fine.

Ernest's confidence was washed away when, without warning, the dragon reappeared, descending from the clouds. The sight of it frightened many of his soldiers into breaking ranks and fleeing at once. The beast breathed fire upon them, travelling down the line of pikemen, aiming the attack with care so no royalist troops were caught in the inferno.

"_**Ooooh shiiit…." **_Ernest breathed before he too was caught in the flames, burned to ash like the rest.

* * *

While the Queen's forces were battling the Grand Army on the field, things inside Winterfell were still looking grim. The attackers had overrun the outer areas of the castle and were now seeking to break inside the keep itself. They had detached the body of the ram from its frame and had brought it to batter down the inner gate leading to the castle's interior. On the other side a small number of defenders were trying to brace the gate with their bodies while bringing up whatever debris they could to help keep the doors closed. Other defenders were spread around at the the keep's windows, firing on the enemy, or else were waiting further away with weapons drawn in case the enemy managed to break through.

Jon had just added a chair to the effort when the middle of the gate suddenly shattered, the head of the ram coming through leaving behind a hole just wide enough for a person to fit themselves through. Jon had just enough time to draw his blade when the ram withdrew from the hole and a pike took its place, nearly running him through. The only way he was able to stop that was to drop Longclaw and grab hold of the pike's shaft with both hands, stopping the blade inches away from piercing his chest. He resisted, his arms shaking from the effort, as the person on the other end of the pike tried to push the weapon into him.

"Move to the side Your Grace!" Someone behind him shouted. Jon did as he was bid and moved aside while holding onto the pike, the shaft bending as it was pressed against the splintered wood of the gate. An arrow flew past him, resulting in a thud and a gurgle, and Jon felt the push on the pike suddenly slacken. Acting quickly Jon pulled the pike inside to deprive the enemy of a weapon. He was about to retrieve his sword when an Orlesian forced his way through the opening giving a sharp shove to his shoulder, turning him around, then wrapping an arm around his throat from behind. Jon struggled in the soldier's grip but could not get himself free. The other northerners tried to interfere but were having a hard time of it with their king between them and their enemy. Even as the northerners were trying to free Jon from his grasp, the Orlesian soldier muttered curses in his own language in the king's ear. Jon felt a sword tip scraping against his back as the soldier tried to align his sword to run him through with it. Suddenly a spear tip appeared and punctured the mask of the Orlesian soldier, pinning his head against the gate. Freed from the Orlesian's grasp Jon stumbled away as other defenders took his place in fighting the enemy, stabbing through the hole furiously. He retrieved his sword and looked up to see who had saved his life. To his considerable surprise he saw Sansa holding the pike he had pulled inside, looking spooked and proud of herself at the same time.

"Sansa? What are you doing here?" Jon asked, walking to her.

"Came to see if there are wounded." She said, motioning to a few mage healers that had arrived with her. "And when I saw you needed help…" She added, lowering the pike to the ground.

"You need to go back. It's…" Jon said.

Before he could finish there was a sound of breaking glass, a hiss of gas and pained shouts. Jon turned and saw his soldiers falling over or backing away as an Orlesian soldier stepped through, readying another vial from his vest.

"Bag-head! Bag-head!" Jon shouted a warning. That was all he had time to do before the next vial shattered on the floor. Jon grabbed his sister and moved both of them away from the gas, shielding Sansa with his body. As he did he felt a stinging pain his right arm. Ignoring the pain he then then he charged at the bag-head, beheading him just as he was reaching for another vial. Another Orlesian was just coming through the hole when he was suddenly cut in half by a curtain of blue light appearing from nowhere. That curtain blocked the hole, preventing more of the enemy from entering. Turning his head, Jon saw Kieran lowering his staff.

"How… didn't the wards stop you?" Jon asked him as the mage healers moved to start evacuating those that had been affected by the gas.

"Burned out from this area some time ago. Haven't had the time to redraw them. Worked for the best though. The barrier will hold them off unless they can bring in a mage of their own to dispel it." Kieran explained.

Jon nodded.

"Sansa, thanks for saving my life, but you need to go back, it's far too dangerous for you to…" He said to Sansa turning to her, only to stop mid-sentence, staring at her in horror.

The left side of her face and neck had turned to an alarming shade of slowly deepening red while smoking holes had been burned into her dress.

"J-Jon?" She asked, confused, before she collapsed.

"Sansa! No!" Jon shouted, catching her just before she hit the ground.

"Help! Help! Healers, come quickly!" He shouted, with her on his arms. Sansa whimpered, obviously in a great deal of pain, and tried to say something to him, but could not form the words.

"Help her!" Jon pleaded when one of the Healers came running over.

"Oh crap!" The healer cursed, having Jon lower Sansa, who had now fallen unconscious, to the ground. "Move over." He said then, unceremoniously pushing the King aside and starting to rub fistfuls of the counteragent to her face. Jon sat where he had been pushed, staring at Sansa, wringing his hands with concern. He was dimly aware of the burning sensation across his sword arm, but such was his concern over his sister that he paid it no mind.

The healer was just about finished when he glanced up from his work and his eyes widened.

"Your Grace, your arm." He warned. Jon looked down and suppressed a gasp. The sleeve of his coat had burned off save for a few scraps, and large patches of his skin underneath were looking raw, weeping blood.

Apparently he had gotten his share of the enemy's weapon as well.

With Sansa's condition steady for the moment the healer quickly moved on to the King to apply the counteragent to his arm as well. Meanwhile Kieran, who had divided his attention between observing the scene and keeping an eye on the Orlesians suddenly noticed the Imperials stop trying to get through the barrier and disappear from view.

"What on earth?" Kieran muttered, cautiously moving to the barrier and peering through the hole in the gate. He could not see any sign of the enemy, but he thought he could make out faint sounds of battle coming from somewhere beyond.

Just then a northern soldier ran into the hall. "Your Grace! Allied forces have made it inside the castle, engaging the Orlesians here!"

Kieran smiled. Help was here. They had done it! "Your Grace, I suggest we sally forth, help our allies drive the enemy off, then join the battle on the field with everything we have left." He said to Jon.

"I'm afraid the King won't be going anywhere for awhile. His injury requires immediate treatment." The healer said.

Kieran nodded. "Understood. Then you should make him a priority. We need him ready to lead the attack as soon as possible."

"But what of Sansa?" Jon said.

"She's in good hands. There's nothing more you can do for her right now, and this issue is more pressing." Kieran said.

"… I can't. She's my family. I need to be with her." Jon said.

"Your Grace… I understand how you feel." Kieran said. "But she will be fine, and you will be needed here. Someone must lead…"

"I'll do it." Edmond said, walking to the scene.

"Edmond? Are you sure?" Jon asked.

"Kieran is right. Someone must lead the attack, but that does not necessarily mean you Your Grace. Right now I think you'd be too distracted to concentrate on this, so I'll handle it. Take care of her, and yourself." Edmond said.

"Very well. And thank you." Jon said after a moment of consideration.

"Good. Ser Brahms, I'll join the assault as well, if you don't mind." Kieran said.

"Of course. You'll be a great asset." Edmond said.

As Sansa was carried in the direction of the infirmary with Jon in tow, Kieran and Edmond went to gather up the soldiers. Once they were assembled Kieran dispelled the barrier and the defenders charged out, adding all their remaining might to that of their allies. The enemy, already busy with the troops of the South Kingdom, was swiftly cleansed from Winterfell and the defenders moved on the battle ongoing on the fields outside.

* * *

On the battlefield things were getting progressively worse for the Imperials. The dragon's attacks had left the field crisscrossed with lines of fire, making it impossible for anyone to form orderly battle lines anymore. Instead the battlefield was a series of clashes between smaller units maneuvering around the plains. Daenerys was flying overhead, destroying targets of opportunity with short breaths of flame. She was interrupted when a ballista bolt flew past. As soon as the dragon had appeared the Orlesians had gone to work to angle their bolt throwers to fire at him. Now the first were ready to start shooting. Fortunately the weapons had been initially been prepared for an attack against Winter fell, which meant they were arranged in a single long line. Daenerys directed Drogon to fly sideways from the ballistae, low and fast, swinging around towards the end their line.

"_**Come on, come on! Bring it down!" **_De Rozien, shouted, pointing at the dragon. The eyes of Lord Kronos, who was also nearby, were fixed on where the Marshall was pointing, his face having gone quite pale. Urged on by their Marshal and Master Engineer Deniel the siege crews were doing whatever they could, sending bolt after bolt against the dragon. Many of their bolt throwers were built so they could fire in rapid succession, far faster than your average ballistae. But that made no difference. Their machines were designed to fire on fortifications and large groups of soldiers. This creature was moving extremely fast and in a way that they had to try and lead their target, which was difficult given the size of their weapons. So hitting this thing was proving just about impossible. With each shots that missed the crews became more and more frantic, fumbling as they sought to reload. First Enchanter Hannah sent a blast of energy toward the dragon but also missed. Then the dragon was upon them, breathing fire from one end of the line to the other. Seeing what was coming many of the crew abandoned their posts and sought to flee. For most of them it was already too late. In a handful of seconds the Orlesian weapons of war were transformed into flaming pyres along with their users. Trebuchets and ballistae alike were consumed in the conflagration. Deniel watched this destruction in utter horror, so transfixed that he was only spared from annihilation when one of his fellow engineers pushed him out of the way just in time. The flames struck too soon for Hannah to escape them, but the veteran spellcaster had other means to protect herself. By surrounding herself with a sphere of energy which the flames could not touch she saved herself and a handful of archers and crewmen that were closest to her, buying enough time for them to get away from the fire.

The horses of De Rozien and Lord Kronos panicked at the flames and the presence of the Dragon. De Rozien managed to bring his horse back under control, but Andharr's horse reared, threw him off and fled the scene. The Lord of House Kronos didn't even have time to stand up before the dragon landed before him, the ground shaking as the creature touched down.

Seeing the dragon land near the Marshal and Lord Kronos, Hannah mustered her courage and took off running towards the creature. Following her example the Orlesian soldiers that she had rescued chased after her.

Lord Kronos remained frozen where he lay on the ground, too frightened to move, staring into the flame colored eyes of the dragon as the creature growled at him. Atop the beast the Dragon Queen glared at the traitorous Lord, her expression fierce. Here was the man who had instigated the betrayal of the Upstart Houses. The one who had aided this invader in getting this far. Now was the time to bring him to justice for his crimes thought she.

After a small eternity of silence Andharr snapped out of his trance. Perhaps he realized that he was already dead. With both his own men and his Orlesian allies burning, fleeing or fighting on the field far away from him, there were none who could come to his aid. The Marshal was still there, but he was but a man. And what could one man do against a creature as mighty as the one the Queen was in command of?

With a shout that was as much fear as it was defiance Andharr's hand went to his sword. The dragon's head darted forward immediately, closing around the Upstart Lord. With a single bite he came apart like a twig, Lord Kronos's armor providing no protection whatsoever against the dragon's jaws. Drogon spat out a bloody piece of the Upstart Lord, then turned his eyes to the Orlesian leader. Alexander felt color drain from his face as the dragon's jaws opened and a glow of flame began climbing out from deep inside his throat.

Then, just as Drogon was about to kill the Marshal as well Hannah was there, a swirl of blue erupting from her staff, disappearing down the dragon's throat, dousing the flames it had been calling up.

The dragon stopped moving, looking… surprised. He burped, a cloud of black smoke emanating from his mouth. The dragon began trashing about, tossing his head from side and would have thrown his rider had she not been strapped to the dragon's saddle. More black smoke poured from his mouth as the dragon made a hacking sound which the Marshal realized was the dragon coughing. Then the flames reappeared, spewing uncontrollably in all directions, and Hannah, the Marshal and the others had to hastily retreat away to avoid being burned or trampled. Then the dragon spread its wings and took to the sky. The Orlesian archers fired on the dragon as it fled the scene, actually managing to get a few arrows to stick on his skin as they hit between scales. As the dragon escaped Alexander could have sworn the dragons teeth were coated in ice, looking like icicles.

"No wonder the dragon fled then. I imagine something like that would be painful." De Rozien thought. He turned his eyes to Hannah and gave her a nod of gratitude, a nod which the mage returned.

With the dragon now fleeing the scene Hannah went to Deniel, who was lying on the ground, sobbing.

"Master Engineer, are you alright?" She asked as she knelt beside him checking him for injuries. His clothes and beard had been singed but other than that he appeared to be alright. Physically at least…

"My crew, my friends. They….they…" He sobbed. Then he turned his eyes to the dragon.

"Damn her to the void. She'll pay. One day she'll pay for what she did. She and that damned lizard of hers. I swear it!" He said bitterly.

"Hush now. The creature is gone. I drove it away." Hannah tried to comfort him.

Alexander meanwhile was busy calming himself and getting a grip of the strategic situation. It went without saying that things were bad. The dragon had been driven away before it could kill him, sure enough. But it recovered its composure quickly, and now it returned to attacking his troops. It was becoming increasingly clear his army was having difficulty fighting the beast. The mages were doing what they could of course but they also had the enemy troops to think about, and the help that Gagnon had promised had not arrived yet. And even without the Dragons help the Royal Army was being very efficient in carving their way through the disordered ranks of the imperial forces, the Queen having wiped out the best chance Orlesians had had in forming an orderly battle line. Few as they were, the defenders of Winterfell were now streaming through the gate of the castle, adding another complication to the battle.

Despite all this De Rozien was trying to wring his mind for some solution to the problem. But then a horn sounded in the north and a third force joined the battle, swooping down on the imperial camp. To his astonishment her recognized banners of the northern houses, a red anvil on a black surface at their head. No… he had thought these remnant forces of the North had been dealt with, that they were so depleted they would not dare to challenge the Grand Army. But clearly the presence of their allies from the South Kingdom had emboldened them to attack as well. With them involved his army was now under attack from three sides, while the northerners were setting fire to every part of the camp not already burning because of the dragon.

Alexander bowed his head and motioned for a soldier with a signaling horn.

"_**Sound a general retreat." **_Alexander told the soldier.

"_**My Lord?" **_The soldier asked uncertainly.

"_**Do it lad. There is no victory here. Not under this sun." **_The Marshall said. Slowly the soldier raised the horn to his lips and blew the appropriate notes. Shortly after other horns began echoing the same notes, spreading the word. As the signal spread the Imperial forces to their dismay realized that they had lost this battle.

* * *

"Come on! Forward!" Edmond shouted, and charged toward the Orlesian forces. He still felt his exhaustion and sickness slowing him down, but he did his part to ignore that, just like all the rest of the people he was leading into battle. He would not have to hold on for very long after all. The enemy was in disarray, particularly as a third allied force had just unexpectedly entered the battle. They would break soon, he was sure of it. Any second now the enemy would signal the retreat, and then this nightmare would finally be over for the defenders of Winterfell.

Just a little bit longer…

An enemy soldier saw him charging toward her and tried to spear him with her pike. But as she was out of formation she was not much of a threat. Edmond knocked the pike aside with the rim of his shield and closed the distance between them, hiding his sword behind his shield. The soldier realized the danger and brought a hand to her sword, but it was already too late. Edmond brought his sword out from behind his shield and pierced her with it, just under where her breastplate ended. Blood flowed, but perhaps for the first time in his life it didn't bother him overmuch. Today, on the cusp of victory after a desperate struggle, the substance he had feared for all his life held no power over him. Nor was he going to allow it to.

As his opponent died Edmond turned his eyes to seek out new opponents. Then he spotted an Orlesian Chevalier, cutting down a Royal Army soldier as he rode on. The Chevalier had lost his helmet somewhere in the fight, so Edmond was able to see his face and recognize it, as it was a rather famous one as far as faces went: Michel de Chevin.

As soon as he recognized him Michel also spotted Edmond and turned his horse to gallop towards the Nevarran knight full tilt. Briefly Edmond considered using the dead soldier's pike to his advantage. But there was no way to wield the weapon effectively with a shield on his hand. So instead he simply raised the said shield and waited. At the last moment he stepped out of the horse's, path blocked Michel's strike with his shield, and as the horse rode past him he struck it in the leg, the only part of the animal not encased in any armor. The blow was enough to detach the leg from the horse's body and send it tumbling. Michel to his credit was able to jump off the horse even as it fell and land on his feet. The Chevalier turned to face the Nevarran knight, sword at the ready. While battle continued to range all around them the two circled around each other warily.

Michel was the first to attack. From the first moment it was obvious that the Orlesian was far superior to Edmond it terms of skill. Had Edmond been wielding only his sword he would have been cut to pieces in short order. As it was his shield granted him an edge, allowing him to hold on, barely. Michel still managed to land a number of glancing blows against his armor, but not in a way that would've injured him. Finally Edmond decided that he had had enough of trying to beat the Chevalier through subtlety and rammed into him shield first. Michel was too close to get out of the way and fell to the ground.

"I did it. I beat Michel de Chevin." Edmond thought proudly as he raised his word to run the Chevalier through.

Above the dragon attacked, annihilating a small cluster of house Kronos soldiers. The flames struck close. Too close. Edmond was briefly distracted by them, cowering behind his shield, turning his face aside and closing his eyes to protect himself from the heat. That distraction was all that was needed. When he recovered his focus he had just enough time to see that Michel was back on his feet. Then he felt the Orlesian's blade pierce his throat. As the blade was withdrawn he began to gurgle as blood began to pour down his throat, starting to fill his lungs. Feeling all strength leave him, Edmond collapsed first to his knees, then to his side on the ground. Michel was about to finish him off, give the Nevarran a clean death, but then an Orlesian horn sounded. Michel looked at Edmond, then where the horn sounded, then right back at Edmond. Then he spat out a quiet curse, leaving Edmond where he lay. A riderless horse rode past, so Michel deftly jumped in the saddle and went away with the rest of his surviving countrymen. That was the last thing Edmond ever saw as he drowned there in his own blood.

With the signal to retreat given the battle came to its end. The final action of the Orlesians, organized by nearby commanders, was to evacuate as much food and other supplies as they were able before their camp was completely overrun. The line of fire Daenerys had carved through the Orlesian encampment had an unintended side-effect. Together with camp's fortifications it forced the northern forces led by House Redforge to circle around, which in turn permitted the imperial delaying action to buy enough time for the Orlesian forces remaining in the camp to disengage and retreat with as much food as they could carry.

Daenerys continued to pursue the retreating Imperials for a time, but with nightfall approaching and a storm brewing she eventually abandoned the hunt and directed Drogon back to Winterfell.


	49. Chapter 48

**Chapter 48; One moment of respite;**

**Characters of the chapter**

**Daenerys Targaryen, **The Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains, Queen of the of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men of the South, Queen of the South Kingdom of the Twin kingdoms and Protector of the Realm

**Davos Seaworth **Knight of Westeros, Advisor to King Jon

**Jerome Evander **mage-healer in the service of Jon Snow

**Jon Snow, **also known as Aegon Targaryen and Jon Stark, King of the North Kingdom of the Twin Kingdoms

**Sansa Stark, **Lady of Winterfell and the Eyrie**, **Wardeness of the North

Jon was in the infirmary, by Sansa's bedside. Jon's damaged arm had been healed with magic and Davos was there as well, his injury seen to. Even the injury Ghost had received had been treated, a patch of bare pink skin where the Sunblade had touched him.

It had been awful for Jon to see Sansa with half her face looking like melted candle wax, wrangling his mind for some way to break the news to her, preparing himself mentally to a new reality of doing his best to help her cope with her disfigurement. Of cource that had been before healing magic had been used on either of them. Jon had watched in awe as to the glow of blue light Sansa's wounds had closed themselves and disappeared. Now her face looked like it had never been damaged at all. His sword arm was like new as well, for which he was grateful, though that had not been his primary concern in the moment. He had seen a lot of things in his life, some of which might be considered supernatural. And yes, he had been brought back from the dead, which arguably topped what had been done now. Still, he could not help but be amazed at the things the mages of Thedas were capable of. How they treated miraculous things like everyday occurrences…

One had to wonder to wonder what further impacts beings in command of such potent forces would bring to the Twin Kingdoms?

Since he refused to leave from the spot he occupied while Sansa was being treated, his people came to him. Messengers came inside now and then, bringing word of the battle's progression. When news had reached them that the Grand Army was in full retreat, the sense of relief had been palpable. But Jon was also saddened to learn that Edmond had perished sometime during the battle. He was undoubtedly one of the architects of the victory attained today. Entrenching themselves in Winterfell had been his idea after all, and his sound tactical advise had proven to be invaluable on more than one occasion. It was unfortunate he did not live to see the results of what he had help bring about. He had come to this country as a stranger, a foreigner, but he had left this world as heroically as any true son of the north. Jon vowed to himself that this was how the Nevarran would be remembered, as someone no lesser than any of the heroes the Twin Kingdoms had in this war.

It had also been interesting to note that it had been Lord Redforge that had led a northern force to Winterfell's aid during the battle. Apparently he had managed to cobble together a force of surviving North Kingdom troops after the battle of the Flamewall, somehow ending up as the one in charge despite presence of a few other lords. With under five thousand at his command he had known it would be suicide to attack the Grand Army head on. So instead he had waited as close as he dared, watching for an opportunity to strike. The Queen's army had provided that opportunity with their attack.

Clearly the Upstart Lord had proven his worth in this war. In so doing he had earned the reward he had asked for. He and his family would be nobility in truth now. With his nobility thinned out by this war he could certainly use a new noble House by his side. There might still be some among the more established nobles who would grumble about this decision, but the choice belonged to Jon, not them. Jon had given his word after all, and loyalty demanded a suitable reward.

"Your Grace, maybe you should take a break, get some sleep?" Jerome Evander said.

"I can't. I should be here for her." Jon said.

"There's no danger to her any longer. Our magic has done its work. Now it's just a matter of waiting for her to wake up." Jerome said.

"Go our Grace. That is my medical recommendation. We will alert you the moment she comes to, I promise." He added.

"But what if you're wrong?" Jon said.

"We will watch over her Your Grace, don't worry." Davos said.

Jon sighed, realizing that this was an argument that he could not win, stood up, and with a final concerned look at Sansa he strode from the hall. But rather than go straight to his chambers he decided he needed to take walk first. To check on his people like a good king should he, told himself, but in truth he knew he needed to wait for Sansa to wake, otherwise sleep would not come, no matter how exhausted he felt.

At this hour the castle was resting, enjoying a blissful sleep free in the knowledge that the enemy had gone and they were safe. There had been no celebration nor feast, nor was anyone really asking for one. A simple respite was all that was needed. And with so many lost among the defenders the mood was more one of quiet reflection than joy.

Jon's feet carried him to the Godswood, the obstruction blocking the path having been removed sometime earlier. He walked amongst the leafless, blackened trees, across the ash covered ground, until he reached the Weirwood tree. Like the other trees here it was leafless, and large patches of its trunk were charred and black. But surprisingly much of the white was still visible as well. Apparently fire had difficulty burning such a large tree with such thick bark.

Jon stepped closer and laid his hand on the trunk of the tree, deep in thought. Then he spotted a single leaf sprouting from one of the branches. A new leaf. The sight of it brought a smile to his lips.

"Well I'll be… You survived, you old rascal?" He said.

"Somehow I figured I'd find you here." A new voice spoke up. A voice he recognized…

He turned around and saw Daenerys standing there, a smile on her lips.

"Dany…" Jon breathed. They ran into each other's arms and kissed. It was a deep kiss, almost a desperate one, months of bottled up feelings pouring out all at once. Neither of them was in any rush to have that kiss end.

"I was so worried I wouldn't ever see you again. I can't begin to tell you how good it feels to see you here." Jon said when their lips did finally part, though they still held each other.

"When I heard your army had been defeated and that Winterfell was under siege… I very nearly left my whole army behind just to come get you. And before the battle today… I was so scared I would arrive too late. But you're here, alive!" Daenerys said.

"They told me that Sansa was injured. Is she..?" She asked.

"She's fine, thanks to the mage healers from Thedas we have working for us. It's incredible what they can do. If not for them she'd be dead, or disfigured for life. But now it's as if she was never hurt at all." Jon said.

"I'm glad. Sansa is someone who knows exactly how beautiful she is, and cherishes the fact. If she were to lose that… I don't think she would have taken it very well." Daenerys said.

"True enough. Though I must say I know someone who is even prettier. Someone I love." Jon said.

Daenerys smiled and was about to answer, but then it began to rain, bringing rain to the parched, dry lands at long last. They hurried to shelter, finding it in an alcove close to the Godswood's entrance. For a time they listened to the fall of rain and the thundering lightning. Then Jon moved a little closer to her, stroking her cheek.

"Jon… what are you doing?" Daenerys said, desire igniting in her eyes. Jon simply gave her one of those intense looks of his, and moved closer for another kiss.

"Jon, I'm not sure this is the right time to…" She managed to utter in half-hearted protest before that kiss silenced her and she found herself responding to his touch. She decided then she did not want to wait any longer for this.

There, in that alcove, the two of them made love. It was a rather quick affair, the two of them not even bothering to remove any more of their armor and clothes than was necessary to do the deed, such was their eagerness for each other. Removing the full plate Daenerys was wearing was especially tricky to, but well worth the effort.

"Thank you." Daenerys said when they were done as she dressed herself again. "Being a Queen for so long… I had almost forgotten how good it feels to be with you. To be loved."

"That's the truth for both of us then." Jon said. Then he gave a worried frown when he noticed her turn sad. "What's the matter?"

"I'm sorry. I should not be thinking about this. Not now. But… this war isn't over." She explained quietly. "We did a lot of damage to the Orlesians. Got maybe twenty, thirty thousand of them before they retreated. We won this battle, and that has given us a fighting chance to win the war. But now we must push them into the sea, end this for good."

Jon nodded grimly. "Yes. I suppose so… but that's tomorrow."

"Agreed." Daenerys said after a pause. "We have given our kingdoms more than enough attention lately. Now it seems only fair that our kingdoms kindly wait their turn and grant us some time just for the two of us. In the morning we can check up on your cousin, see how she's doing."

"Come. Everyone else is resting, so we should too." She told him. "You in particular. Don't take this the wrong way, but you look like week old bread. Guess sleep wasn't a luxury you could afford during the siege?" She added.

Jon chuckled quietly. "No…"

With that they departed through Jon's chambers, hand in hand.

* * *

Several hours later, while it was till dark, Sansa finally stirred. She woke slowly, her eyelids feeling heavy as stone. As her thoughts slowly returned to her she listened to the voices around her: the occasional quiet clatter of objects being moved about. Brief, hushed conversations. The moans of the wounded.

Then she snapped into awareness, her eyes flying open as the memories of what had happened returned to her. The horrible burning pain, the feeling of her face melting. Her hand flew to her face expecting to feel the horrible extent of the harm done to her. But her fingers only found smooth undamaged skin. There was no pain either. Her skin did feel a little sensitive to the touch, but not in a way that hurt. Confused she sat up on the bed, only now recognizing her surroundings as the infirmary where she had spent so many desperate, frantic hours to stop people from dying.

"Ah. Lady Sansa, you're awake." Said one of the healers, a woman of some thirty years of age, walking over.

"A mirror. Quickly, please." Sansa said. She could not leave this to her fingers. She had to see it, so she could know it was true.

The healer nodded, as if she had been expecting the request, and produced a simple mirror for Sansa.

Sansa quickly took the mirror into her hands, and looked at herself . And there it was, her face, unmarked by any kind of injury, just as she remembered. She could feel tears of relief starting to stream from her eyes. Even so she was puzzled. It had felt so real, she could recall what had happened so vividly. She couldn't have just imagined it.

She glanced down and realized that he clothes had been replaced with the simple white outfits given to all the patients. She saw her original dress neatly folded on a chair next to her bed. Taking the dress into her hands she could see how the front of the dress was a mess of holes that had burned straight through the fabric. That confirmed her suspicions.

"So it did really happen. But how…?" She wondered aloud, then turned her eyes to the healer.

"You… you healed me then?" She asked. She had seen them working their healing magic of course, each time amazed at what they could do with it. Apparently her injuries had not been an obstacle for them either.

The healer nodded to Sansa's question.

"Thank you. Thank you so much." Sansa said.

"Was… was it you yourself that cast the spell, or was it one of the other mages. I'd like to thank the one in person." She asked.

"In this case it was me, so your thanks did reach the right ears. But no thanks is necessary. We are merely doing our duty, as always." The healer said.

"Now then, if I might inquire, how are you feeling? Everything alright?" The healer asked.

"Yes, I think so. My face feels a bit strange though. Tingly. Sensitive to touch." Sansa said.

"Ah yes. That is nothing to worry about My Lady. Newly restored nerve points are often oversensitive. They should return to normal in a few hours, a few days at most." The healer said.

"That's good to hear. Uh… nerve points?" Sansa said.

"A component of the human body responsible for sensations. Touch, temperature, pain, all that." The healer explained. "But I suppose you would not know of such things. Outside the Maesters it seems valid knowledge on the subject it very limited in Westeros. And even their knowledge is often deficient. No offense intended to their profession or to your country of course. But as I was saying, nothing to be worried about. For now rest is what I recommend to you most of all."

"I see. I think you have a point. I do feel like sleeping a little bit more. These last few days have been… very long." Sansa said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I could use a drink of water first though." Sansa said.

"Of cource." The healer said and left Sansa's side, returning shortly with a filled wooden goblet.

"You wouldn't happen to know where Jon is, do you? I would have expected him to be here." Sansa asked, slightly disheartened by his absence.

"Oh he hardly left your bedside, My Lady. Right now though I think he's resting like everyone else." The healer said. Then she smiled and leaned closer to Sansa. "Although in his case one can only hope that he actually remembers to sleep at some point. The way I hear it he was spotted with the Queen."

"With Daenerys?" Sansa said with a chuckle. "My, that does explain quite a bit. I suppose I will see them in the morning then. It would not be right to disturb them."

Sansa laid down and closed her eyes, sleep claiming her again in a matter of moments. The healer meanwhile went about her business, attending to the others in her care.


	50. Chapter 49

**Chapter 49; Reclamation;**

**Characters of the chapter**

**Isabela **Sailor on the Seadancer, former Captain of the Siren'sCall II, admiral of the Felicisima armada (self-appointed)

**Harwyn **Captain in command of the Siren's Call II

**Yara Greyjoy **Master of ships on the small council of the south kingdom, commander of the royal navy, Queen of the Iron Islands

"You're right. You're quite good at this." Yara said as she reclined next to Isabela, admiring her bare form. They were in her cabin on the _Seadancer, _and the Queen of the Iron Islands had finally taken the pirate up on her offer. She had not regretted her decision.

"Told you. I have had quite a bit of practice over the years. You didn't disappoint either mind you." Isabela replied with a grin. Then she frowned. "Quite good? Are you saying you've had better?"

"Egh, I don't like to compare. Though there was this one time way back when in Essos…" Yara began to say before there was knock on the door.

"My Queen, a sail in the distance, possible enemy." A voice came from the other side of the door. Yara's crew knew better than to enter at a time like this.

"I'll be right there!" Yara replied, stood up and took a shirt into her hands.

"You should get dressed too." She told Isabela.

"Oh, and before I forget, since we are heading into battle soon, I got you these." She said, picking up a pair of daggers and tossing them onto the bed. "I happen to know you prefer daggers in combat. Hopefully these are good enough."

Isabela took the daggers, testing them in her hands. "Yes, these will serve. Thanks." She said with approval.

"You sure you trust me with these?" She asked.

"Well enough. You've proven yourself. And I need all of my crew able to fight during the battle, including you. Now come along." Yara said.

When they both were finished dressing they stepped out onto the deck. Around them were the ships of the Ironborn, the Redwynes, the various stormlander houses, even the occasional Dornish warship. All had been picked up along the way as they were making the long trek around the continent. The combined naval strength of Westeros, ready to do their part in winning this war for the Twin Kingdoms. Long had it taken them, but now they were close to the enemy, only a short while from engaging them.

Yara's people had reported correctly. In the distance, away from the mass of other ships, a sail could be seen.

"Hmm… hard to tell from this far away, but I don't think that's a Westerosi design. Small to medium size, two masts, triangular sails and no oars near as I can see." Yara contemplated.

"Isabela, you probably know Thedosian ship designs better than anyone else here. What do you make of her?" She asked. Isabela merely stared at the other ship, a shocked expression on her face.

"Hey!" Yara said, snapping her fingers in front of the other woman's eyes to bring her back to awareness. "Is something the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"It… it's my ship…" Isabela explained.

"What? Yours? You sure?" Yara asked. Come to think of it, that ship did look kind of familiar. It reminded her of a ship she had only ever seen from a distance, one that she had been chasing for years, but had never been able to catch.

"It's my ship. I'd recognize her anywhere." Isabela confirmed.

"Well, I quess you really did see a ghost then." Yara said.

"Harwyn…" The pirate snarled. "He's there. He has to be. That thieving scoundrel!"

"Woah, get ahold of yourself. Remember what we came here for." Yara said.

"You came here for one reason, and I came for another. That's my ship out there, and I'm going to get it back. That was our deal." Isablela said.

"I know." Yara said, despite the fact that Isabela's current interpretation of their agreement wasn't strictly speaking correct. "But one thing at a time."

"Give me a ship, any ship, as long as it is a fast one, and left me go after him. You have said you'll let me go if wish it. I now wish it." Isabela demanded.

Yara disliked something in the pirate's tone. "If you really wish to leave I'll allow it, as we agreed. But we are headed into battle. If at a time like this you think I'm going to turn over one of my ships to you so you can go on some wild goose chase…"

"My Queen, the enemy ship is changing cource." One of the crew interrupted.

"Damn, must've spotted us." Yara said, turning her attention back to the enemy. "And based on their cource I'd bet they're running straight back to the Orlesians to tell them we're coming."

"Increase to full sail. And signal the rest of the fleet to do the same." She ordered.

"He's got too much of a head start on you. You won't catch him." Isabela said.

"Could be. Even so the closer we are to the enemy when the alarm is sounded, the better." Yara said.

"Well, it seems you don't need to run away now after all. With some luck Harwyn will be with the Orlesian fleet and you can reclaim your ship from him." She said.

"And if he's not there?" Isabela asked.

"Then I suppose you will be leaving to hunt him down afterwards. If my needs aren't pressing after the battle I'll even reconsider loaning you the ship you asked for." Yara said.

"But never demand a ship from me again. Doing that is beyond your rights. One does not make demands of Queens." She added pointedly.

Isabela was about to argue back, but reconsidered. "You're right. That was out of line. I'm sorry."

"I can understand how you feel. That ship is your life, unfairly taken from you. Being so close makes you burn with the desire to take it back. And the thought of letting it slip away drives you crazy, making you speak rashly. I'm not asking you to give up on that entirely. But please put your focus on winning this fight first and foremost, please?" Yara asked in a conciliatory tone.

Isabela sighed again, crossing her arms, looking at the floor boards. It was not an easy thing Yara was asking. When she wanted something, she went after it. Being denied it due to circumstance was one thing. To voluntarily walk away from it was quite another. "…I'll try. But if the opportunity to take my ship back arises I'm going to take it. Consider that my contribution to the battle." She finally agreed.

Yara considered. "Fair enough. At least if you succeed you will be removing an enemy ship from the battle."

"But I'm wondering how do you intend to go about this? What's your plan?" Yara asked.

"I'm thinking knives, and sticking them into Harwyn. He hasn't been in charge for long enough to earn total loyalty from the crew. I will be considered at least as valid a candidate as he is. I kill him I will have proved myself, and ought to have enough respect from the rest of them for them to take me back as their captain." Isabela detailed.

"Sounds risky." Yara said.

"Maybe, but it's the only plan I have. Also, if we encounter my ship during the battle, I would prefer that you refrained from sinking it until I have had a chance to try this." Isabela said.

"I'll do what I can. But battles are chaotic things, and I will have only so much control. And my first concern must be on winning." Yara said.

"Got it." Isabela said. She spent a moment in her own thoughts until something about the environment caught her attention. The way the wind was blowing, the sense of oppressiveness in the air. She turned her head upwards and overhead the already grey skies had to her eyes turned somewhat darker.

"The weather. Do you feel it too?" She asked quietly.

Yara looked at the sky as well, and her expression became grim. "I feel it. There's a storm coming."

"How long do you figure?" Isabela asked.

"Not long. This evening or night at the latest." Yara said. "Hmm. This is going to complicate matters."

"Should we tell the fleet to head for cover?" Isabela asked.

Yara shook her head. "No time. The only port close enough to accommodate us is White Harbor, and the imperial fleet is between us and the city. No. We attack as planned."

Isabela chuckled dryly. "Tell you a secret? I don't think I've ever been involved in a major sea battle with lots of ships involved on both sides. Pirates tend to avoid those where possible. And it's likely this is going to be a night battle, plus now it going to be a battle in the middle of a storm too. This truly starting to be a day of firsts."

Yara gave an amused smile. "Well, I got you beat on the first two points then, though I'll admit a battle during a storm is a new experience even for me. But on the upside, the Orlesians won't expect an attack either."

"Yeah. They won't expect us to be quite so mad." Isabela said.

"Well, they say that the best plans are the ones your enemy would not expect. This plan certainly falls into that category." Yara joked.

* * *

"Have I mentioned how crazy this plan is!?" Isabela said as their ship climbed up one wave, the down again, forced to shout due to the wind howling in their ears.

"You have! And in fact that's the twentieth time you've said something to that effect! I don't exactly disagree, and I know you are probably doing that because of the stress, but give it a rest would you!" Yara shouted back.

Just as they had predicted, the storm had hit them a few hours later. Now, as night had fallen, it raged around them in full force as the fleet struggled forward. Thunder split the skies every few minutes, while rain was falling in sheets. The weather had not been kind to the Westerosi fleet. Contact had been lost with several ships that had been carried away by the storm. Isabela suspected that a few might have quietly decided to disobey their admiral and head to somewhere where they could wait out the storm, but she kept that to herself. The rest were trying to avoid capsizing or crashing into one another. Not all of them succeeded.

"Damn!" Isabela spat as a wave tossed up one ship and smashed it against the rocks. "Are you sure we have to stay this close to the shoreline!?"

"I'm sure! In case you didn't notice we don't have the stars or the moon! If we lose sight of the coastline we'll have no way to get our bearings and there's no telling where we'll end up!" Yara said.

"Okay, okay, fair enough! But at this rate the storm will sink more of our ships than the Orlesians will!" Isabela said.

"I know!" Yara said. She had to admit Isabela had a point. This idea went against all her sailor's instincts. Storms were something one braved only when there was no other option, or when one was supremely foolish or ignorant. In this regard the Ironborn were braver than most, but even they braved the Storm God's power only sparingly, as far too many had been lost that way. But as she had noted, there was no place to shelter nearby that was adequate. And they did need to engage the Orlesian fleet while they had the element of surprise. She just hoped the fleet would not be too scattered or damaged before they could do that.

Hopefully she was not making a terrible mistake right now…

"My Queen! Over there! Light ahead!" One of her crewmen shouted over the wailing winds, pointing. And indeed, though she was half blind from the rain flying to her eyes, Yara could see clusters light in the distance, making out the rough outlines of ships.

"There they are." Yara said. "Signal the fleet: Battlestations!" She commanded.

One of her crew nodded and began waving a lit lantern at the other ships. Pinpricks of light appeared in the darkness, spreading the word. Drums would usually be added to this, but in this weather no one could probably hear anything anyway, so Yara did not mind that her crew didn't bother with it.

"Archers, to your posts! Load the catapult!" She shouted.

"All this rain… not good for the bows." One archer grumbled as he placed an arrow to his bow. Yara could not help but nod in agreement. The rain would dampen the bow strings, rob them of power. The catapult would likely be affected as well. And certainly the way their ship was being rocked by the waves would make aiming difficult. But better some firepower than none. At least until they managed to get close and personal, which incidentally was likely the best way to win this fight.

Yara turned her attention back to the enemy fleet. They were closer now, so it was possible to make out details of the opposing fleet, although the darkness was still making things difficult. In the brief moments when lightning lit up the night she thought she could spy frantic movement on the enemy ship. She wondered if the foe had yet spotted them. Moments later a large rock impacting the water near her ship answered her question.

"Catapult! Fire!" Yara shouted, and her crew sent a rock of their own arcing towards the Orlesians. A few moments later a satisfying crash could be heard as the rock smashed its way through several oars just as they were being put into the water.

As had been predicted, the enemy had not thought the Westerosi to be mad enough to attack during a storm. Whatever warning Isabela's ship had brought them had come too late. Unable to dock within White Harbor, some of their ships had been beached along the coastline, while others had dropped anchor to weather the storm. Now they were panicking, trying to get themselves ready.

Arrow fire was beginning to be exchanged between ships now, but as anticipated they were proving ineffective, with arrows failing to reach their target or having so little power in them that even leather armor deflected them.

"No matter." Yara thought. That was never going to be the way this battle would be decided. She settled her eyes on one of the larger imperial vessels.

"There! That one! Set course for it! Increase to full sail! Prepare to ram and board!" She shouted, taking hold of her weapons: In her right hand a one handed ax, in her left a dagger. Her crew were reluctant to increase sails in all this wind, but obeyed her command, while also preparing their weapons. From the corner of her eye she could see Isabela taking the daggers she had given her into her hands.

She and her crew braced for the inevitable impact and waited. The Orlesians ship they were aiming for was still trying to raise anchor. There wasn't the slightest chance for them to get out of the way. Moments later the _Seadancer _reached its intended target, her ram making a sizeable hole in the hull of the imperial vessel. Then the boarding ramp was lowered and Yara ran forward, toward the enemy ship, Isabela right behind her, followed by the rest of the crew.

As she set foot on the deck of the Orlesian ship, an enemy marine saw Yara coming and raised a sword to strike at her only to get her ax in his skull. The battle's first casualty. Then the deck exploded in violence, the chaotic, messy clash of sea combat. The Orlesian marines were disciplined, but the Ironborn were ferocious. As the crews of the two ships struggled, other ships reached the site of battle as well, ramming into the Imperial ships. Some of the Orlesian warships finally managed to get moving and moved to support the portions of their fleet already engaged. As ships tangled together, several clusters of engaged ships formed, islands of wood embroiled in furious combat, growing larger as more and more ships joined the battle. Projectiles flew, ships smashed each other to pieces, and everywhere the din of battle competed with the howling of the storm.

Amidst this chaos Isabela fought, quickly proving her worth to the crew that had taken her in. She danced a dance of blades among the enemy, dispatching Orlesian marines and sailors in rapid succession. When her enemies tried to strike at her she simply wasn't there anymore, and her dance carried on without interruption.

Her efforts soon began to turn the tide of battle in their favor on the ship they had boarded. As the fight began to die down she looked for any sign of her ship whenever she had a moment.

She cut down two Orlesian marines within seconds of each other, then once again turned to look at the open water, starting to despair that she had seen no sign of her ship. Then she spotted it, ramming a Redwyne ship. Better yet, she spied a route to it through the mess of battling ships.

She set off towards her prize immediately, moving from ship to ship, never saying a word to anyone in Yara's crew. The only one to see her leave was Yara herself, and the Queen of the Iron Islands was too busy fighting for her life to do anything about it.

Along the way Isabela had to fight her way through enemy troops, mostly Orlesian soldiers as before, but there were more than a few pirates who were allied with the Orlesians. As far as Isabela was concerned those pirates were fair game as well. They had chosen their employer as any member of her disreputable profession could, and it so happened those choices made them her enemies today. There were no hard feelings of cource, but neither did she feel any particular kinship towards them. Only one crew among the enemy she cared about sparing, IF they didn't decide to attack her. Even some Westerosi who did not know she was a friend tried to attack her, though most realized their error when they noticed which targets she went after. Those who did not she simply avoided, refusing to kill them. That much at least she could do for Yara. On no particular ship or zone of battle did Isabela remain for long. She moved onwards as fast as possible, only stopping to fight those that got on her way.

In her mind burned a singular goal and she'd not be distracted from it.

As she came close she saw her ship free itself, starting to pull away, perhaps to ram again or perhaps to flee the battle altogether. Either way she knew she could not let them get away.

She ran across the deck of the she was on as fast as she could, shoving past fighting crewmen. Even as she moved forward, her ship slipped further and further away, the distance between the two ships growing greater. She reached the edge and without slowing down she sheathed her daggers and jumped. She would have preferred to land on the deck with a deft roll, in an impressive scene, like one Varric might write in his stories. Instead she felt the air driven from her lungs as she slammed against the railing. Her hands slipped on the soaked wood and she almost fell, but she barely managed to hold on, dragging herself onto the deck. Her crewmen were luckily busy clearing the deck of Redwyne troops, so no one saw her.

Harwyn happened to be right there with her on the upper deck, putting his rapier through a Westerosi soldier. The sight of him made her face twist in anger as she took her daggers back to her hands and stood up.

"Harwyn! You bastard!" She shouted, pointing one of her daggers at him.

Harwyn turned, freeing his blade from the corpse he had speared. "What the… Izzy? How the fuck…?" He uttered, completely dumbstruck.

"I knew I should have gutted you bitch!" He growled then.

"Yeah, you ought to have. Now you'll pay for that fucking mistake!" She snarled back, then attacked him. As the crew were finishing off the remaining invaders the two captains fought for their right to command this vessel.

It had to be admitted that Harwyn was among the trickiest enemies she had faced over the years. His Antivan made rapier was among the more exotic weapons Isabela had come across in a fight. It was as long as any sword, giving Harwyn an advantage in terms of reach, making it hard to get past it. At the same time it was so light as to be lightning fast, nearly as quick as Isabela was with her daggers. To top it all off Harwyn wielded it with years of experience. Against a well armored opponent he might have been in trouble, but at sea people generally didn`t wear a lot of armor for fear of drowning in it. Isabela was no exception to this rule.

They had dueled for a time when Isabela managed to duck under Harwyn's slash and slice a wound into his flank. Holding his side with his free hand Harwyn snarled and attacked again, redoubling his efforts. In quick succession the tip of his rapier cut across her thigh, her shoulder and her cheek, leaving not time to react between the strikes. The wounds were fairly light, but painful enough to make her fall on her back. Before she could stand she found the point Harwyn's rapier resting against her chest, pinning her against the deck.

"Now you fucking whore, now I'll do what I should've done the first time." Harwyn said with a triumphant grin on his face, and raised his blade for a killing blow. Even in that moment that looked to be her last, Isabela refused to show fear, staring him down with defiance and hate in her eyes.

It was one of the Westerosi ships, eager to join the general battle and only partially under the control of its crew. They were trying to ram _Siren's Call II, _but managed only a glancing blow that didn't do any significant damage. The impact nonetheless rocked the ship, which in turn meant that the sword that was meant to spear her instead jammed between the boards.

For half a heartbeat Isabela and Harwyn stared at each other in confusion. Then Isabela jammed one of her daggers into his wrist, making him retreat away, howling in pain. He held on to his sword, but it was securely stuck where he had plunged it, so instead the thin blade snapped under the strain, leaving perhaps a third of the original length in his hand.

In an instant Isabela was back on her feet and attacking with her remaining dagger. The first two strikes Harwyn managed to parry with the stump of his sword, sparks flying when their weapons contacted. The second strike however knocked his broken sword aside. Then Isabela spun and cut a deep diagonal line across his chest.

Harwyn collapsed into a whimpering bloody mess. Isabela loomed over him and pulled free the dagger stuck in his wrist, adding even more blood to what was already pooling at his feet. She raised a dagger.

"Wait!" Harwyn cried, holding up a hand. "Izzy, wait. You beat me, fair and square. You can take your ship back, I don't want it that badly. But-but maybe we could make a deal? For old time's sake yeah? For an old friend? I just want to live. Let me go and I'll swear you will never see me again! Please?" He pleaded.

"Are you fucking serious?" Isabela hissed, her voice devoid of any notion of mercy. "You betrayed me. I thought you a friend once, and you turned on me. You took my ship from me and now you insult me by saying you don't even want it that badly. You've now tried to have me killed twice. And now you have the gall to ask for mercy from ME!?"

"Well then, *friend*…" She sneered before stabbing her dagger into his sternum and twisting, making him groan.

"HERE! IS! YOUR! DEAL! YOU! PIECE! OF! SHIT!" She shouted, each word followed by a stab. When she was done Harwyn lay unmoving and full of holes. Harwyn was still wearing the hat he had taken from her while seizing her ship, so she reached out and put it on her own head. Turning her head Isabela saw that her crew was watching, having finished off the Redwyne soldiers that had boarded some moments earlier.

Her features illuminated by a flash of lightning splitting the skies, she was quite a fearsome sight to behold. Her face and shirt were covered in red, slowly being washed away by the continuous downpour. Every last remaining inch of her was soaked in water, her hair sticking to her skin.

Without saying a word she sheathed her daggers and went to walk amongst her crew. The sailors silently gave way as she passed, her eyes moving from face to face. At the bow of the ship she stopped and faced her crew.

"WHO IS YOUR CAPTAIN?" She shouted, raising a fist into the air. Her crew began to cheer and shout her name.

"Orders, Captain?" One of the pirates asked when the cheers finally quieted down.

Isabela turned her eyes towards the rear of the ship, where the Orlesian flag was being buffeted by the winds. Harwyn had really gone all in when siding with the Orlesians. He had made himself into their creature and until this moment her ship had belonged to them as well.

"Take that down and toss it overboard." Isabela said with disgust, pointing at the flag. "We are not Orlesian lickspittles any longer."

"Got it. And then?" The pirate asked.

"And then…" Isabela said. She turned her eyes to the open water, where freedom beckoned. She could leave if she wanted, and in good conscience in her opinion. She had fulfilled her bargain with Yara to the fullest, even if her departure had been a little abrupt. But then she turned her eyes to where the battle was still raging as fiercely as ever. It was then that she realized she was still needed. Against her better judgement she felt drawn back to the battle. It was not that she cared for the Twin Kingdoms or their cause, oh no. It was Yara that was the issue, the fact that she still needed all the help that could be given her, which, surprisingly, Isabela found mattered to her. And while Yara might be understanding, if Isabela went away without so much as saying goodbye it would seem as if she didn't care whether Yara lived or died. Which surprisingly again could not be farther from the truth.

"And then we will loiter on the edges of the battle. Be on the lookout for Orlesian warships trying to leave the battle. We are going to be taking them down. But steer clear of Westerosi ships. They might not realize this ships has switched sides." Isabela decided.

"Wait. We have switched sides? So we are not leaving?" The pirate asked.

"No. Got this temporary arrangement going on with the Westerosi commander. Want to settle it properly before we go, after the battle. So we might as well make ourselves useful while we are at it. Now let's get ready." Isabela said.

Her grew shrugged and went to work. Not like they had been expecting to do anything much different before she had showed up. Only the enemy they were supposed to be fighting had unexpectedly changed, and that was a change they could cope with.

The main battle raged for three more hours and smaller skirmishes between single ships continued until morning. In that time _Siren's call II _counted two Imperial warships among her kills. Both were Orlesian medium size triremes in bad shape and limping away from the battle. The first of these had sustained so much hull damage that is sunk in minutes when Isabela's ship rammed into it. The second one was boarded and captured, its depleted crew overwhelmed in short order by the raiders. A number of other ships had arrows fired at them as they passed by, scoring a few additional kills, although as before the weather made arrow fire ineffective. Westerosi warships challenged them a few times during the fighting, but she had her ship steer clear each time, and as the Westerosi noticed which side she was engaging the number of incidents decreased. By the end of the battle many ships of the Twin Kingdoms had been lost, but in return the whole Imperial fleet had been destroyed, captured or driven away.

As morning arrived the weather began to clear up as well. Isabela quietly had everything of value extracted from the ship they had captured before turning the ship itself over to a Westerosi prize crew. After that she brought her ship into dock with Yara's vessel. Her crew was a little wary of them doing so, remembering as they did narrow escapes from this Ironborn ships and others like it in the past. But Isabela reassured them there was nothing to worry about. This meeting was a friendly one.

"Isabela! We did it!" Yara shouted happily as soon as the spotted the pirate coming onboard. She ran to the other woman, caught her in a tight embrace and planted a long kiss on her mouth.

"It looks as if you got your ship back as well. Good for you. And Harwyn?" Yara said when they were done and they went to have a private chat in Yara's cabin.

"Dead as dead can be, and his closest cronies are in the brig. Gonna kick them off my ship at the first opportunity. Now way I want to be stabbed in the back again." Isabela said.

"But tell me, what happened to you?" She asked, noting how Yara's forehead had been bandaged.

"Oh this? A little parting gift from the Orlesian admiral." Yara said, touching the bandage. "Irritating, but no big deal. And the said admiral fared way worse, so I can't really complain." She said dismissively.

"Looks like you got a few cuts yourself." Yara pointed out.

"A few." Isabela admitted. "Harwyn proved a tricky one to take down. Actually he got close to killing me. But don't tell anyone. I have a reputation to maintain."

Yara nodded with a smile. "My lips are sealed."

"The word out there is that when you managed to get your ship back you turned it on the Orlesians, helped fight them. That true?" Yara said.

"Felt like the right thing to do. Didn't feel like leaving a job half finished." Isabela said with a shrug.

"Thanks for that. I mean it. That you chose to do that when you didn't really have to says a lot. And I have reason to believe you did make a difference out there." Yara said.

"About two enemy warship's worth maybe." Isabela said.

"So now that this fight is finished, what's up next for you lot?" She asked.

"For us? Going to send out some ships to hunt down Orlesian transports carrying foodstuffs for their army and to clear out the pirates still raiding for the enemy. I'm also going to send as many ships as I dare back to the Iron Islands to be ready if the Qunari make a move. Everyone else is going to stay here until the Dragon Queen gives the all clear and has new orders." Yara said.

"Seeing as you have your ship back our arrangement has reached its end. And now I'll fulfill my end of the bargain. I have the written pardons for you here. Had them drawn up before the battle, because I had a hunch." Yara said, handing Isabela a stack of papers.

"With these documents I, Queen of the Iron Islands and the Master of ships on the small council of Queen Daenerys, pardon you of all crimes committed against the Twin Kingdoms prior to this day." Yara said in a formal tone.

Isabela nodded slowly, understanding the significance of the situation.

"So, with that done you… could go." Yara said in a softer tone.

"I could… but from the way you said that I'm thinking you don't really want me to." Isabela said.

"No. No I don't." Yara said.

"For… personal reasons?" Isabela teased.

"I'll admit that is a part of it. I like having you around. And you seem to know your business between the sheets too, which is always a bonus." Yara returned the tease.

"But that's not the only thing." Yara added in a serious tone again. "Look, you are an excellent sailor and one of the best fighters I've ever seen. That much is fact, so no need to tell me to stop flattering you. And now you have ship and crew of your own too. All of that is something I could use. Even when the Orlesians are gone we are going to be dealing with a whole lot of other enemies. You could do a lot of good for the Twin Kingdoms by helping us fight them."

"So what exactly are you proposing?" Isabela asked.

"To hire you and your ship to work for us. You'd be well paid, and you'd get to pick the jobs you want to do for the kingdoms and you'd get to go on your merry way when you choose. No trying to make you a permanent part of our navy like the Imperials wanted to do with you. I'd even be willing to throw in same kind of pardons I gave you for the rest of your crew. Given that attacking the Orlesians probably cost you the pardons they were offering you, I'm sure those would be appreciated." Yara said.

Isabela want quiet, thinking about what was on offer.

"My crew would probably go along with that. They already did something similar with one nation, so why not another? And I'm not saying I'm not seriously temped to accept. I don't usually like to take orders from anyone, but taking them from you wouldn't be so bad. But… look, I don't fight for causes. Never have. The very reason ended up joining forces with your crew was because I refused to do so for the Orlesians. And if not for the need to take my ship back I would not have gotten involved in this war at all. Messes like this… they are too big for me. And you are probably going to be taking on the Qunari next. Those Oxmen are seriously bad news. I'd rather not tangle with them if I can help it. Don't take it badly, it's just… it's not me." Isabela said finally, her tone apologetic.

Yara sighed. "I understand. It's alright. Really. I get where you're coming from. If you don't want this then I won't press you." She said with a nod, although clearly she was disappointed. "Well, I suppose you have places to be. I shan't keep you. My offer will remain open though, just in case you change your mind."

"Oh and one more thing." She said just as Isabela was about to leave. "Please refrain from attacking Westerosi ships from now on. If you do they might send me to hunt you down again, and this time around I'd hate to do that. Huh, quite a change of pace considering how we started off, isn't it?"

"It is. Very well, I'll do what I can to not attack Westerosi. Be seeing you… Yara." Isabela said. With no more words to say she stepped outside and headed to where their ships were tethered together. She was just about to step onto her ship when she stopped, one foot hovering in the air.

Yara had said that she was okay with her leaving. That she understood her reasons and was willing to let her go. And Isabela had fulfilled her end of the deal they had made to the fullest, not cheating the Ironborn Queen out of anything. Now there was no obligation saying that she would have to fight other people's wars. She had every reason and right to walk away…

Then why did leaving feel like the wrong thing to do? Why did this remind her of another event many years ago, on the road outside Kirkwall, staring back at the city's lights, the Tome of Koslun in the crook of her arm, coming to a realization that she had to return, for her friends and because it was the right thing to do.

"Dammit Hawke, why did you have to teach me to care? Teach me to be responsible? Worst friend ever." Isabela muttered as she realized she wasn't able to just walk away from this.

With a sigh she went back to Yara's cabin, to tell her that she had had a change of heart considering her offer.

It appeared she would be running errands for the Twin Kingdoms and the Queen of the Iron Isles for a while. Quite a change of pace indeed.


	51. Chapter 50

**Chapter 50; Reminded of one's mortality;**

**Characters of the Chapter**

**Alexander de Rozien, **Chevalier of Orlais, Marshall of the Grand Army of Orlais, supreme commander of the Orlesian invasion of Westeros

**Daenerys Targaryen **The Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains, Queen of the of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men of the South, Queen of the South Kingdom of the Twin kingdoms and Protector of the Realm

**Jerome Evander **mage-healer in the service of Jon Snow

**Jon Snow, **also known as Aegon Targaryen and Jon Stark, King of the North Kingdom of the Twin Kingdoms

**Lucan Holden **Nevarran Dragon Hunter, advisor to the Grand Army of Orlais

"I still think you should not charge off on your own. Without an army supporting you the enemy can focus on you and the dragon exclusively. That's too dangerous." Jon argued as he and Daenerys were walking to where Drogon was basking in the sun. For several days now their armies had been pursuing the retreating Orlesian host. Twice the Orlesian force had turned around to face them in open battle. Both times dragonfire and the efforts of their soldiers had turned the tide, breaking the enemy anew, leaving the foe with lesser numbers than before. Between battles she had taken to using Drogon to make quick attacks against the Orlesian marching column to thin their ranks further, which was what she was about to do again.

"We have had this same discussion every time I have done this, and I win every time." Daenerys responded. "Are you perhaps planning to start a new tradition?" She asked, half in jest.

"I persist because it matters to me. You matter to me." Jon said.

"And I appreciate that, but I will be fine. I have been after every prior attempt." The Queen said.

"If I know anything of warfare, it's that even if something works nine times, the tenth time might still hold surprises." he argued.

"Your people need you as much as mine need me. To say nothing of how much I need you with me. If something were to happen to you… I couldn't bear it."

"I know it." Daenerys said compassionately. "And believe me, that's exactly how I feel every time you put yourself in danger. Even so…"

"There is no need to risk for you to risk yourself like this. Not this time. The Orlesians are in disarray, there is no need for these attacks." he interrupted.

"We should keep the pressure up, to make sure they remain off balance, to make sure the enemy is dealt with once and for all. Otherwise they might find a way to turn this back around to their advantage. This conflict cannot drag on any further, none of us can afford it. And so I must do this. There is risk of course, but there is always risk. Every time we go to battle it's a gamble. And yet it is a gamble we must take, because we have already asked others to so for us. If we are unwilling to take chances we ask of our soldiers, we don't deserve to be here. This is my choice to make, and I have made it." She said.

"And why is it you who gets to take these chances? Why not me?" He asked.

"You know why. I am the better flyer, just like you are better at commanding troops on the ground. But if you're willing to have a go at this then I'll gladly stay on the ground next time, assuming Drogon lets you ride him." She said. "This time, however, is mine." She added with finality.

Jon sighed, realizing that he had lost the argument once again. "You're one of the most stubborn people I know, did you know that?"

"Of course. It's one of my charms is it not?" Daenerys said, smiling playfully. Then she climbed on Drogon's back, fastening the straps that held her in the saddle. "You needn't be overly worried about me. I'm riding Drogon after all". She said in a more serious tone.

"I'll be back before you know it. I promise it." She called down to Jon one last time before the dragon took flight, rapidly shrinking as the Queen flew away.

"I'll hold you to that… my love." Jon said to himself as he watched her fly.

* * *

"You're certain that these weapons of yours can bring down the dragon?" Marshal Alexander asked of Lucan Holden back in the Orlesian camp, using Thedosian common for a change. A table lay between the two, upon which two sets of arrows were placed. The Nevarran dragon hunter was his spymaster's answer to the question of finding alternative methods of dealing with the dragon utilized by the enemy, finally here to aid them. With repeated defeats suffered by his army due to the beast, this aid could not have been more timely. Usually Nevarrans would be loath to work with Orlesians, but fortunately Holden was not a very patriotic man, and in any case he was being compensated very well for his services.

"There is a very good chance of it my Lord." Holden answered. "I would offer a more certain response, but nothing is ever certain with dragons, particularly one that favors flying around as much as your soldiers have told me this one does. These weapons, along with the mages in your service, offer the best chance to ground the creature, however."

De Rozien nodded. "Tell me of these weapons, and your plan to use them."

"Well, the first set of arrows are explosive arrows." He said, pointing at the group of arrows to his left. "You have these in use in your army. We'll be aiming these at the wing membranes of the dragon. A few good holes in those and the creature should come tumbling down from the skies. Furthermore, even if these arrows do not pierce the dragons hide, shockwaves from detonations against the body of the creature may cause it disorientation and possible internal bleeding." Next he picked up the second group of arrows. "Now, these are the special deal. In addition to the arrows I have provided a few larger tips to your high engineer to be used on the few bolt throwers your army has left. You may note the high quality material: The tips are fashioned from Volcanic Aurum, the shafts from Sylvanwood, and the feathers have been prepared with extra care to ensure the arrows fly straight and true. Furthermore, these arrows have a rune design in them specifically meant to harm a dragon. On contact the magic causes reactions similar to burns on any dragon tissue. Again, even if the arrows do not go through the skin, the magic of the runes may do some damage. The only drawback is that their expensive cost means that we do not have all that many of them."

"The creature flown by the Queen is rather different from the dragons found back home." The Marshal commented. "What if the runes fail to affect it?"

"That should not be something we need to worry about." Holden replied. "I tried these on a wyvern once and they worked just fine. I reckon it's a safe assumption that the dragon we face today is a far closer cousins to Thedosian dragons than wyverns."

"Very well. Please continue." De Rozien said.

" I have handpicked some of your best archers to assist me. We will be working in groups of five. Four in every five men will be using explosive arrows, while the rest, the best archers in your army, will be using the dragon slaying arrows. Working in such small groups, we should be able to avoid the worst of the dragonfire, and with our special weapons there is a reasonably good chance we will be able to force the creature out of the sky.

"Will you be a part of the teams?" the Marshal asked.

"Of course." Holden confirmed. "I will be using these Dragon slaying arrows myself. Not to boast, but I am an excellent archer. It would be foolish not to apply all my skills in this endeavor."

"Let's say that you manage to force the dragon to the ground. What then?" Alexander asked.

"Assuming that the dragon and its rider survive the crash? Then it shall be up to your army to finish the job." Holden said.

"Even grounded, the beast will still be dangerous, and loss of life almost guaranteed. Even so, in that state it will be far more vulnerable to attacks, particularly from the heaviest weapons of your army. If your army has chains and grappling hooks, I recommend making use of them. They will be very useful in holding the beast down. The ice spells of your mages will also be extremely useful in containing the fire attacks of the dragon. Your troops should surround the creature and attack from all sides simultaneously and keep moving, so it cannot focus its efforts. Tell your soldiers to go for the legs, the eyes and the soft tissues around the mouth and wings. They should strike and retreat away from easy striking distance of the dragon. A dragon's hide is tough and will deflect most attacks, but every wound inflicted will weaken the beast that much further. Obviously your soldiers should direct their attacks on any existing wounds on the dragon to cause more damage. Once the dragon has been adequately weakened, the mages or bolt throwers in your army will need to deliver the killing blow. You will need to have both on hand the moment the dragon hits the ground. Then the main targets will be the head and the torso and the major organs residing within." He went on to instruct.

"Understood. Let's hope your plan works. If we are to have a victory in this campaign we must deal with the dragon. That is the only way." Alexander said.

"That is why I am here, what you pay me for. My teams are ready to deploy at once, as soon as you give the command." The Nevarran said.

Just then a horn sounded and shouts of soldiers could be heard all around, fingers pointing at the sky.

"Then it seems that the hour has come. Do as you have promised and the reward you receive will be such that you need not work a day in your life ever again." The Marshal said. Holden nodded, quickly grabbing the arrows on the table and running off to where his troops were waiting for him. Alexander left quickly as well. For the moment there was little he could do except encourage his soldiers and direct their efforts where possible. Once the dragon was grounded he would direct his soldier's efforts against it in earnest, but before that was done he too had no choice but to seek shelter from the wrath of this flying monster.

"Prepare to fire! Holden shouted when he reached his team of soldiers. In response the Orlesian's nocked arrows to their bows. "Not yet." He said when he saw one of them taking aim at the dragons. "Wait for it to descend. Then we fire for maximum effect. Aim at the parts of the dragon I instructed before. Maintain discipline and remember to lead your target. Like shooting at a galloping knight."

As he said this, the dragon descended for its attack, unleashing the first blast of flame,. "Now!" He shouted, and they drew their bows and fired as one. Other of his teams began attacking as well, joined by the rank and file archers of the army, the bolt throwers and the mages, filling the air with flying projectiles.

* * *

Daenerys spotted the sprawling mass of the Orlesian army on the march, looking like ants from the height she was flying at. She directed Drogon into a rapid descent. She selected as her first target a group of chevaliers on a small clearing. "Dracarys!" she said to her mount and a large eruption of flame followed. Some of the chevaliers managed to scatter and get away, but most of the group were caught by the fire and burned to a crisp.

As had happened previous times, arrows and magical attacks began to fly at her and her dragon. She dodged these attacks as best she could, setting fire to more of the enemy at every opportunity. Even as she did this she noticed that something was different this time. The incoming fire was more intense than the previous times she had flown against the Orlesians, intense enough that many arrows and some spells were hitting their target. While many of the arrows flying at her were clattering harmlessly away as before, others were, instead of merely impacting, exploding on contact, violent enough that even Drogon's body shuddered at the shockwaves. Others emitted a green light as they struck, causing Drogon discomfort with each hit, as was evident from the pained screeches he gave. It did not take much of that for her to begin to hesitate in her attack. This was very bad. The Orlesian attacks were far more severe than she had anticipated, and if the Orlesians could do enough damage to make Drogon do behave like this…

Sensing imminent danger in the situation, she made a quick decision to retreat. She turned Drogon hard to the right, beginning to turn around and head back. The Orlesians were directing all fire against Drogon, making it impossible to avoid every incoming attack. It was as she was flying through this cloud, trying to get away when there was a blur of something moving in the corner of her eye, then something painfully impacting against her side. The impact pushed the air from her lungs, so her scream of pain came across as little other than a gasp. She looked down and saw an arrow sticking out in the area of her ribs, the tip having burrowed itself just beneath the plate. She had barely processed this as another arrow came at her, hitting her in the arm, shattering from the impact, leaving the tip lodged in her armor.

At the moment of impact there was a flash of green light, and this time she howled, howled with terrible pain.

The agony was unbelievable, feeling as if electricity was travelling the length of her arm, followed by a terrible numbness, her arm going limp, all sensations gone from her limb.

Somehow the wound she had sustained in her arm left her feeling exhausted and weak, like she had been sick for days. Barely conscious, she did not know how Drogon managed to get away from the line of fire, but away he got. Eventually she dimly noted that arrows were no longer flying around them. "Home, Drogon, Home." She whispered weakly, slumping against Drogon's neck.

* * *

Down on the ground a Nevarran dragon hunter cursed that he had failed to bring down the dragon, taking only small consolation that he had managed to wound it and drive it away, which at least proved that his method worked to a degree. And although he could not be certain of it, he was almost sure he had seen the Queen get hit as well. That alone could be a valuable outcome.

* * *

After about twenty minutes of flying Daenerys regained her senses to a degree and forced herself to sit upright again. The arrow in her side hurt, stinging her with every breath. She tried to pull the arrow out but could not manage to do it with one hand, and eventually the pain of the trying forced her to stop. Feeling was slowly returning her other arm, and with that she became aware of the even more severe pain on her arm, pain that somehow, to her surprise, reminded her of fire. It was crazy that it hurt so much. The arrow had not even pierced her plate! She reached out with her functioning hand and tried to pry away the arrow tip still attached to her armor, but as soon as her fingers brushed against it there was another flash of green light and she yelped as her hand went as numb as her arm. She decided it was better not to meddle with this thing in her armor.

Drogon continued to fly onwards, hopefully back towards the camp. She clung to the saddle, fighting off unconsciousness tugging at the edges of her thoughts. Eventually Drogon landed on a windswept plain of grass. With weak, clumsy hand she undid the straps the kept her in the saddle. Then, with the last of her strength gone, she slid sideways from Drogon's back, landing on the ground with a crash, the arrow in her side breaking under her. Lying on the ground she was dimly aware of the massive shape of her dragon looming over her. She smelled his sulfuric breath as he gave her a slight nudge with his snout, then licked her face with his tongue, giving a concerned rumble. Daenerys smiled at that. "You big softie. Your mother will be just fine. You'll see." She mumbled, her thoughts beginning to fade. The last thing she heard before the darkness swallowed her was Drogon filling the air with a long, piteous wail.

* * *

That was where Jon found her, with Drogon standing over her protectively. Having seen her land some distance away from camp, he had guessed that something was wrong and had fetched the healers at once. Two of them were following at his heels, carrying a stretcher with them. Jon's heart jumped with fear when he saw Daenerys lying there, unmoving. For the briefest of moments he was frightened that she was dead. But then he saw her turn her head ever so slightly, indicating that she still lived. When the healers saw her they moved to retrieve her, but the moment they took a single step towards her, Drogon roared at them, smoke drifting from his mouth, and they retreated in fear.

Realizing that Drogon was being protective of Daenerys, Jon took a few cautious steps forward, past the healers.

"Your Grace, don't!" One of the healers warned him, but he ignored his words. Drogon roared at Jon as well, but recognition soon reduced his roar to a half-hearted growl.

"Drogon, listen." he said to the dragon, keeping his voice calm and even, hoping that he could make himself understood. "She is hurt. She needs help. We can help her, but you must let us get to her. We won't harm her, I promise. Let us help her, please." He pleaded.

Somehow Drogon seemed to understand what he was saying. Although he continued to growl a little just to make a point, he slowly, slowly backed away. The healers were still afraid to get any closer, so Jon walked to her, picked her up on his arms and carried her back, gently lowering her to the stretcher. Then the healers picked up the stretchers and headed back to the tents with Jon walking at their side, refusing to leave his wife's side even briefly. Only once they reached the tents of the healers was he forced to remain outside, the healers insisting that they needed peace to work. Not even his position as the king could sway them. He remained just outside, wringing his hands anxiously and made several attempts to barge in, to no avail.

"Burned? Are you joking?" Jon asked incredulously some time later of Jerome Evander, who had been detailing to him the condition of his wife. Daenerys was still unconscious, lying on a bed, her armor removed and her injuries tended to.

"Joking? I assure you your Grace, this is no laughing matter." Jerome said, not understanding why the king thought he was making a joke.

"You don't understand. She cannot be burned. As in, fire does no damage to her." Jon insisted.

"It does not? You're certain of that?" Jerome asked.

"Yes. She showed this to me once. Took a red-hot coal into her hands and held it there. There were no burns afterwards." Jon said.

Well… be that as it may, there is certainly a burn on her now." Jerome said, looking perplexed. "Take a look for yourself." he said, beginning to remove the bandages on her arm. When Jerome finished his work Jon's eyes narrowed at what he saw:

On her arm, almost exactly in the middle between her shoulder and elbow, there was a perfectly circular burn of angry red color, around the size of a palm. Tiny blisters had spread outward from the center in a spider web pattern.

"What the… how?" Jon breathed, not believing his eyes. "This looks like no burn I have ever seen."

"Me neither. That is not an ordinary burn, that's for sure. There are also burns of on the fingers of her other hand, but those are not serious and will heal on their own." Jerome agreed. "That thing is resistant to healing magic, so I suspect the attack itself was magical in origin. That might be how she could be burned in the first place."

"What caused this?" Jon asked.

"Near as we can tell, this." Jerome said, lifting up an arrowhead from a metal tray. "We found it lodged in the armor just above the burn. There is some kind of magic on it, brought about by a rune in the metal. But that still leaves a lot of questions. Both the rune and its magic are of a kind that I have not seen before. I cannot figure out why the Orlesians decided they needed special arrows or what they are for. One possible clue though: The others, they told me that they saw burns on the dragon too."

"You believe there is a connection?" Jon asked, even more puzzled than a moment ago.

"Possibly. I still don't quite understand why it would affect her." The healer answered.

"A fascinating mystery certainly, but I think for another time." Jon voiced his conclusion. "Will that heal?" He asked, pointing at the burn.

"We are confident it will." Nervander assured. "We have treated it with ointments and as much healing magic as we could make it take. That will speed up the healing process, but even so it will take some time."

"What about the other arrow, the one you told me she had on her side?" Jon asked.

"That is already dealt with, fully healed. She got lucky with that one. It was not ultimately all that serious, but it could have been lethal. It was a good thing she was wearing armor, and that the arrow struck a rib on its way in, stealing strength from the impact. Without that the arrow would have buried itself in her lungs. As it is, she won't even have a scar."

Jon gave a relieved sigh, comforted by the fact that his Queen would be all right. "Thank you for what you have done." He said to the mage.

"You're welcome." Evander replied, giving a bow of his head. "Now, if your Grace would excuse me for a moment, I should reapply her bandage.

The king nodded and Jerome went to work on applying a fresh layer of ointment to the Queen's burn. Meanwhile Jon interest was captured by the arrowhead. Wondering how such a little thing could cause so much, he reached out to take the thing into his hand…

…but the moment his hands brushed the surface of the arrowhead he withdrew his hand hastily, giving a shout of surprise and pain. Alerted by the sound Evander turned around to see the king clutching his hand and the arrowhead pulsing angrily with green energy.

"What the…? Your Grace, are you alright?" The healer asked.

"It… it stung me!" The king said, completely astonished.

"Show me your hand." Evander told him. Jon complied, and Evander saw that his fingertips had burned.

"How in the…? It affected you too? But I was handling that thing just a moment ago! You saw! Why didn't it do anything to me? How come this thing works only on you two?" He exclaimed.

"I don't understand it either." Jon said, sounding confused. "The only unique thing me and Daenerys have in common that I can think of is that we both have Targaryen blood."

"So you are saying that there might be something in that thing that only affects Targaryens?" Evander said, pondering. "And… and the dragon." he gasped in realization.

"The dragon?" Jon repeated, unsure what Evander was trying to say.

"Yes. This is going to sound strange but… I have heard it said that the Targaryens are the blood of the dragon. How… literal… is that?" Evander asked.

Jon was surprised by the question. "I… I do not know. I always assumed that was just something they said, because of their sigil, like saying that Starks are wolves or that Lannisters are lions. But maybe…" He glanced at Daenerys, wondering.

"Well, if you will permit it, I could send messages to some Inquisition contacts of mine. If anyone would know what this rune is really, it would be them. They could confirm some suspicions that I have."

"Of course. Answers would be welcome. See to it." Jon said, nodding. "But what of her?" He asked, motioning at Daenerys.

"All that can be done for her has been done, so now it's just a matter of waiting." Nervander said.

"Understood. Thank you again." Jon said.

Evander made his leave, while Jon remained with his Queen, wanting to be there when she woke up. Now and then his people came by to give him reports, but none of them lingered for long. He knew that the army would have to move out to keep pace with the Orlesians, so he had given orders to be ready to set out at dawn the next morning. Even so he refused to leave her side to oversee those preparations. He was half asleep himself by the time his wife stirred, his head nodding, but when he saw her waking up he immediately returned back to full awareness. She opened her eyes and turned her head to look straight at Jon.

"Hi. Welcome back." Jon said, smiling as he knelt beside her, caressing her cheek.

"Jon… what happened?" She asked with a voice full puzzlement.

"I was about to ask you that." Jon replied.

Daenerys frowned as she thought back to her past flight. "I… there was an arrow. It struck me in the arm, there was a green light, and then… pain. Terrible pain." She said, looking at her arm, seeing the bandages there, the fingers of her other hand brushing over them.

"It still hurts. Unlike anything I think I've ever felt and bloody hells I've given birth. How can it possibly hurt this much? What did they do to me?" She asked.

"It… this might be a shock for you to hear." Jon said, trying to find the right words to explain.

"Tell me." She insisted.

"There is a burn on your arm." He more or less blurted out, finding no better way to say it.

Daenerys looked utterly shocked: "What… a… that cannot be!"

"That was my reaction as well. But I saw it with my own eyes. It's true. And I got my share of it too." He said, showing his burnt fingers.

"But how?" She asked.

"We don't know exactly, but this was caused by an enchanted arrow unlike any we have seen before. It turns out it does damage to you, me and dragons if Drogon is any indicator, but apparently no one else. I have people looking into the why as we speak."

"It just doesn't make any sense…" She said, still finding it difficult to wrap her head around Jon's claims. "Is Drogon alright? You said he was hurt as well."

"He was fine, last I saw. I doubt these arrows had a chance to do more than make him grumpy." He calmed her.

"Please do check up on Him when you get the chance. Right now the two of us might be the only ones who can approach him safely. That means we are the only ones that can see how bad his wounds really are. I put him in harm's way. It would take a great load off my chest to know he's going to be fine." She said.

"Of course. But there is something I would like you to promise me first." He said.

Daenerys looked at him questioningly, unsure what her husband wanted her to promise.

"I want you to promise me to never scare me like this ever again. There was a moment there I thought I had lost you, and that notion scared me half to death."

Daenerys smiled. "It seems only fair payback for all the times you scared me."

"Dany…" Jon said seriously.

"I know, I know, a bad joke. I promise to be more cautious in the future. And I **am **sorry. I didn't think such a thing could happen to be honest. I mean, I was riding a dragon. What could anyone do against him?" She said.

"You know full well dragons are not invulnerable, and you are not the dragons you ride." He said. "Our enemies can always do something to you, particularly now that they wield weapons unlike any Westeros has ever seen."

"True." She said solemnly. "But while on dragonback it is easy to forget such a thing. Easy to think yourself invincible. After today though… I don't think I'll forget again."

"Are you sure you are ready to do that?" Jon asked as Daenerys sat up on the bed.

"Yes." She said firmly. "I still feel exhausted, I think because of the magic on the arrow, but it's not like I'm going straight back to work."

"I think I want to see this burn for myself. Accept it as real." She said after a moment of consideration.

"I'll send for one of the healers. They can help you with the bandages and reapply them afterwards." Jon said.

Daenerys grimaced and rubbed the bandaged wound again. "Damnable thing!" She cursed. "Is this really what burns feel like to the rest of you?"

"If it feels anything like mine, then yes." He confirmed.

"I'll need to remember that the next time I plan on setting someone on fire. I had no idea this is what it feels like…" She said thoughtfully.


	52. Chapter 51

**Chapter 51; To have it end**

**Characters of the chapter**

**Agatha, **Bard of Orlais

**Alerie, **Bard of Orlais

**Alexander de Rozien, **Chevalier of Orlais, Marshall of the Grand Army of Orlais, supreme commander of the Orlesian invasion of Westeros

**Bazyl Joubert, **Orlesian ambassador to the South Kingdom of the Twin Kingdoms

**Brienne of Tarth **Knight of the Twin Kingdoms

**Daenerys Targaryen, **The Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains, Queen of the of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men of the South, Queen of the South Kingdom of the Twin kingdoms and Protector of the Realm

**Haddon, **Bard of Orlais

**Jaime Lannister, **Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West

**Jon Snow, **also known as Aegon Targaryen and Jon Stark, King of the North Kingdom of the Twin Kingdoms

**Roslin Tully, **Lady of Riverrun, widow to Edmure Tully, the former Lord of Riverrun

**Ser Kenton, **Knight in the service of House Kronos

**Tyrion Lannister, **Hand of the Queen to Queen Daenerys

_**Cursive/Bold text is in Orlesian**_

Alexander de Rozien rode at the head of a small column of riders. Before him were the last few hills before White Harbor and the coastline. The remainder of his army was not far behind him, such as it was. Between the attacks from the dragon and the battles with the Westerosi army pursuing them his army had now been reduced to less than half the number that had come to this continent originally.

The dragon had not reappeared since they had managed to drive it off with the help of Lucas Holden, their Nevarran dragon hunter, so there was a respite from that threat. But the damage had been done, and the advantage had swung decisively in the favor of the Twin Kigdoms. Although the Queen's army had lost many forces breaking the siege of Winterfell and the battles since, the Grand army had lost more. The Twin Kingdoms now commanded the greater numbers, particularly since the remnants of the North Kingdom army had now rallied with the Queen's forces. Worst of all contact had been lost with the fleet. Not even Gagnon's inquiries had produced any clues to what had happened. With the loss of contact had also come the loss of the final Imperial supply line. Even with rationing his army only had food for a few days more. After that starvation would begin.

It had to be admitted that the campaign against the Twin Kingdoms had been a failure. Victory for Orlais had been so close, but that only made their defeat that much more bitter. They had underestimated the resilience of the Westerosi. And they had underestimated the dragon most of all. They had believed that they had a final answer to its threat, that they had it contained, only for the Queen to somehow (Alexanders still had no idea how that had been managed) prove this to be a false assumption. Perhaps they had had more artefacts made before starting this war, or if their resident dragon hunter had been with them from the start things might have been different. But there was no use in contemplating on might have beens, because now there was no longer a chance to turn the tide around. The defeats sustained during the time being chased by the enemy force had all but confirmed this. At best the Imperial Army might drag things on for some time longer, perhaps killing more of the Royalists. But what was the point of that now that the war had already been lost? Alexander could only hope he would not be penalized too harshly for having failed in this campaign. Without question His Majesty would be most displeased, but with some fortune the Emperor would realize that he had done his absolute best and that the circumstances had simply escaped beyond his control. If not, or if the Emperor decided he needed a scapegoat more than he needed the truth of what had happened… well it was all in the Maker's hands now.

Right now the Marshal's objective was to save as many of his troops as possible. To that end he had come to believe it would be necessary to do what the Imperial Navy had failed to accomplish and seize White Harbor. The enemy army was right at their heels, so there was precious little time for an evacuation while a call for peace was yet to be issued. With the army he still had at his command, striking without warning against a city that was already battered and weakened, he believed he had a decent chance of capturing the place. With White Harbor under their control they stood a chance of holding out until they could retreat to their ships or until a negotiated peace could be arranged. Distasteful as it was the populace of the city could be used to protect them from the dragon and the enemy army both. The fire breathing monster would still be a threat to their evacuation efforts, but they could hole up their fleet in the harbor and send ships out during the cover of darkness.

The Marshal and his entourage ascended the final hill blocking White Harbor from their view. At first he was delighted to note the Imperial fleet still holding the bay. But then he realized the ship designs were all wrong, the sails and banners carrying sigils foreign to his nation. It was a Westerosi fleet holding the bay, not an Orlesian one. Around the enemy ships there were several smoking and half submerged wrecks, the remnants of the proud Imperial armada. There was now no doubt as to why contact had been lost, what had happened to the Imperial fleet. Now there would be no leaving Westeros. And now there would not be taking White Harbor either. Not in time. Not with the enemy fleet able to bring their sailors ashore to bolster the city's defenses.

Now there was only one way to save his army. It would not make him any more popular in court, indeed it would be equal to political suicide. But the good of his troops and the security of the Empire demanded it be done. Orlais had lost enough sons and daughters in this mess. Any more would only leave them more weakened against enemies at home.

De Rozien bowed his head and motioned to one of the riders at his side. _**"Send for a messenger and a scribe. And make sure the messenger carries a white banner when he sets out."**_

The soldier he had addressed suppressed a gasp. _**"Yes ser." **_The soldier nonetheless said, saluted and rode off to fulfill the command given.

Alexander watched the soldier ride away. Of cource he had taken his Marshal's meaning. What other reason could there be to send a messenger with a banner of truce.

This army had belonged to De Rozien. His troops trusted him, even amidst this defeat. Alexander could not quite shake the feeling that in doing this he had let them down.

"But at least this way there is a chance that they get to go home." He tried to console himself.

* * *

Jon and Daenerys were at the head of their army. For a change the Queen was on horseback, since both she and Drogon were still on the mend from the injuries they sustained in their last attack against the Orlesian force. Jon for his part was glad of the company as he chatted with her, drifting from topic to topic without a clear course in their conversation. It was so good to be at her side at long last, and to just talk of matters other than this blasted war they had been caught in. Just by looking at her he could tell that she felt the same way. Ruling two different kingdoms meant they often had a thousand miles or more separating them from each other. They did what they could to keep in contact with one another of course, but even the most frequently sent letter could do only so much. Because of that every moment they did get to have together was precious to them, used to their fullest extent. That included circumstances as unusual and unfortunate as this conflict.

Overall the mood amongst the Twin Kingdoms forces was rather relaxed. While the enemy force still numbered in the tens of thousands, the Royalists knew that the advantage was now theirs, and that the enemy had now suffered numerous defeats at their hands. There was a feeling in the air that the end was in sight, at least as far as the threat presented by the Orlesian Empire was concerned. That knowledge cheered everyone's spirits. Of course there was still the matter of the Qunari to deal with. That was going to be a host of problems all of its own. It had taken a surprisingly long time for them to do so, but now they had started receiving reports of groups of the Oxmen having landed on the coast and an increased amount of naval activity on the Western seas. That meant they had to finish this opponent quickly and turn to face the fresh foe. But that did not detract from their accomplishment here.

And of course they still had to be cautious. The Orlesian host was still large enough to cause great havoc if they slipped away from them. To prevent that possibility they had scouts out at all times, watching for an enemy attempt to get around them.

It caught Jon's and Daenerys's attention to notice a group of those scouts riding back to them… with an Orlesian soldier riding between them.

"My King, My Queen. This man says he bring word to you from Marshal de Rozien." One of the scouts said upon reaching them.

The King and Queen exchanged looks. "Then let him speak, if he has something to say. What message have you been sent to bring us?" Daenerys said then.

The Orlesian soldier took a deep breath, clearly reluctant to perform this task. "Your Graces. The Grand Army has become aware that our line of retreat has been cut, and that our strategic situation has now become untenable. To save his army from total annihilation… Marshal De Rozien is willing to offer the Grand Army's surrender in exchange for the safe treatment of all our remaining forces."

"Here is the written message conveying the same request." The soldier said, handing a scroll to one of the scouts, to be handed over to the Monarchs.

There was a long pause as the two considered this unexpected offer. "While I am not entirely certain than an invading army that attacked our countries unprovoked is deserving of it… I am inclined to accept this surrender, for the good of my kingdom. I am sure the King in the North feels the same way." Daenerys said then.

"Aye, I do. The Marshal offered to treat my troops fairly when our positions were reversed. If he truly wishes to surrender then I find I can offer no less." Jon said.

"But what of your Empire, soldier? Is this it's surrender as well?" Daenerys asked then.

"Unfortunately at this time I have no information on any decision made by the Emperor regarding this conflict. But word has been sent to ambassador Joubert about the situation here. He will relay the information to his Majesty, who will then reach an appropriate decision. I have confidence the Emperor will inform you of anything you need to know regarding that decision." The soldier said.

"Very well." Jon said. "Return to your commander and tell him his offer of surrender is accepted."

"Thank you Your Graces. The Grand Army will be ready to be turned over to your custody when you reach us." The soldier said with a bow.

With that the Imperial soldier turned his horse around and rode back the way he came.

"Do you know what dislike most about the Orlesians? Their masks. Remind me far too much about the Sons of the Harpy. And you can never know what kind of thoughts they are really thinking behind those things." Daenerys said as she watched as the enemy rode away.

"Bring word to the rest of the army. I want no bloodshed unless the enemy provokes it out of us, but until they have actually surrendered we must keep ourselves ready for battle. And once you have delivered the message you are to return to scouting. I have no interest in walking in to an ambush." She then commanded the scouts. The scouts gave her a bow and rode off as well.

"The Orlesian's being cut off… Yara's doing?" Jon asked.

"Almost certainly." Daenerys said.

"It would seem that this is over, at long last." She added, relieved.

"Assuming the Emperor sues for peace." Jon said.

"He will. I can feel it in my bones. And what else is there for him to do? He could send another army I suppose. But it would take a long time to assemble one, and this time we would be expecting the blow. And he has lost tens of thousands of lives without gaining a damn thing, so I have a hard time believing his people will agree to go along with anything more." She said.

"I hope you are right. Because we still have the Qunari to face. Peace with the Empire would be timely." He said.

"Yes, and for more than one reason. You see, I don't think we have the power to face the Qunari on our own. Not anymore. These Orlesian shits took that from us. If we had that much strength to begin with. After what the Kirkwall ambassador has told me of them, I am less than certain. In either case we are going to need allies. And I think I know who we should approach first." She said.

"You mean the Inquisition." Jon guessed.

"Correct. Working on a peace treaty would give us direct access to the Lord Inquisitor, since I have high confidence he will be there to oversee this personally. I've not always trusted their intentions, but the Inquisition is a force to be reckoned with, and unlike us they have allies of their own, which they can call upon in need. Orlais they would not fight because of their ties. But perhaps they will fight the Qunari, if it gains them our friendship. And perhaps we can count on their aid against Tevinter as well."

"Tevinter?" Jon repeated, raising his eyebrows. "Enemies right at our doorstep, and you're thinking of the Imperium? I know the kind of stories they tell of them, but why worry over wrongdoers half a world away when we have so many issues right over here?"

"You forget where I came from, and what I did there. That is why Tevinter matters to me." Daenerys countered. "Jon, they are murdering my legacy. All the good I did in Essos… it has all become undone because of them. And they are not going to stop. If they have their way I never existed at all. They will do the same to anyone that opposes them. In their world the only nation ever to exist was Tevinter, and only their people ever accomplished anything of note. Everything else they will eradicate from history."

Jon sighed. "I can understand why that might frustrate you. But that doesn't change the fact that they are not here, unlike our other enemies."

"Not now they're not. But trust me, one day they will be. And if you are going to wait until they are marching across our lands, you will find it is far too late then to do anything to stop them. We must begin our preparation now, while we still can." Daenerys argued.

Jon did not respond at once. "The Inquisition will make fine ally, if they can be convinced. On that much at least we agree." He then concluded.

"Then that's good enough for me. For now." Daenerys said, deciding that convincing Jon of the Tevinter threat could wait for another day.

"Do you know what the people have taken to calling this war?" She asked after a moment of silence, changing the subject.

"What?" Jon asked.

"The War of the Winds." She said.

"A strange name." He commented.

"Very. It must have originated with a poet or some such." She said. "But apparently it's called that because of different cultures and geographies of the fighting sides. The Thedosians have their homelands far away to the north of us, hence they are collectively called the North Winds. We who live south of them are likewise called the South Winds. They were carried to our shores by their winds in the north, and like a wind they swept across our lands, first as merchants peddling their wares, and now as invaders. And when we rose to meet their threat, our country was embroiled in a strong and terrifying storm of war."

"I think you are right. Must have been a poet who thought of that." Jon said with a smirk. "You know, that reminds me that the more time passes the sillier it feels to call my Kingdom the North. At one time I believed the world ended at the Wall. Anything beyond it was some wasteland not worth considering part of the world. Then I went there and found there is a true North beyond the Wall. Eight years ago we learned there is a northern north beyond even that and bloody hells even that is not the end of it from what I hear".

He sighed. "Used to be we could think we know the world. Now we have to accept that we knew it not at all."

"Perhaps that is a sign of our times." She contemplated. "These are strange days we live in, Jon. Full of awe, mystery and change. Come what may, the Thedosians have changed us. Nothing will ever be quite the way it was again.

**At Riverrun, several days later…**

Alerie cautiously peered over the battlements, staring at a pair of Lannister soldiers close to the waterline. They looked to be gathering water from the river, scooping it up with buckets. Idiots. Wiser men would have done so further away from the castle, out of range from arrows. Weeks of dull, uneventful siege had made the Lannister troops complacent it seemed. Their mistake.

Alerie aimed with her crossbow for a few seconds, then fired. One of the Lannister soldiers got a crossbow bolt through the eye. The other one dropped his bucket and fled back towards the Royalist camp but left his fellow behind. Alerie reloaded and took aim again but lowered her weapon when she realized that the other one had gotten out of range.

"Lucky." She thought as she sat down on the battlements. "Or maybe not" She reconsidered. Sure, the other one had gotten away from her, but he would doubtless be feeling terrible later on for the one left behind. And his living buddies would be none too merciful that the two of them had gotten so careless and forgotten they were participating in a siege.

"_**Alerie, I really don't get why insist on doing that. You are supposed to be on watch duty. That's all you are really expected to do. So why are you shooting at things?" **_Haddon said as he joined her.

"_**Target of opportunity." **_Alerie said with a shrug. _**"Plus I have a quota of sorts to keep. I figure if I drop enough royalists Agatha might be willing to forgive earlier screw-ups on my part. I'd really like to get back in her good books if I can."**_

"_**I don't think you are in quite as much trouble as you seem to think. Sure, she's still irritated that you shot Lord Edmure, but only time can fix that. As for the other incident… she can accept that it was an honest miss. Annoying for her, but ultimately not your fault. And she's busier being mad at Kenton than being irritated with you." **_Haddon said as he sat down next to her.

"_**Well, maybe so. Still, it doesn't hurt to do this, right? Just to show her I'm not incompetent." **_Alerie said.

"_**She knows you are not. Just as she knows you still have much to learn about patience, of thinking ahead. She doesn't hate you, even if she sometimes gets impatient with you. And getting yourself killed isn't going to help anything." **_He said.

"_**Killed? What do you mean?" **_She asked.

Haddon rolled his eyes. _**"Did it occur to you this might have been a trick? Those two might have well been there to lure you out, so a hidden archer could then shoot you dead?" **_

"_**Well it wasn't a trick, and thanks to the shot I took there is now one enemy less for us to deal with. I fail to see how that could be a bad thing?" **_She said defiantly.

"_**Actually that too may have gotten to a point where it doesn't matter anymore. There's been a few developments. Tell you all about them." **_He said.

"_**Sure. But while we are talking… would you share some of your rations? I'm all out." **_She said.

"_**What? How can you be out already? Its early morning. These rations are supposed to last all day!" **_He asked.

"_**I know, I know. But you know the kind of pathetic scraps they have been handing out lately. Not enough for even a single proper meal." **_She said._** "Come on, be a pal. I'm really hungry." **_

"_**And you think I'm not?" **_Haddon asked. Then he gave an irritated sigh. _**"Fine. Half my rations, no more. And I expect to get half of your rations next time they are passing them out." **_He said, taking out a small packet and handing her some of the bread and dried meat it contained.

"_**Sure thing. And thanks." **_Alerie said as she took what was offered.

"_**Oh man. Next time we have to sit through a siege we'd better stock up on supplies. It's just pathetic, the situation we have gotten ourselves in here." **_She said as she munched on the food.

"_**Agreed. But I'm guessing this whole siege thing wasn't what anyone was planning on. But now I believe I was about to tell you about what was happening elsewhere in Westeros. It's a good thing we are already sitting, because this is going to be a bit of a shock…**_

At the same time in another part of the castle Agatha stepped inside the space Kenton had turned into his personal office.

"Well? What do you want now?" Kenton asked curtly when he noticed her enter. He was currently seated before a desk, poring over some papers.

"News from the front." She replied equally as bluntly. "The Grand Army has been smashed to bits. Now they are going to fucking surrender."

"What? Shit!" Kenton said, standing up.

"I'm going to take my people home." She said, crossing her arms and going to stand next to a window.

"You are leaving!?" He asked.

"Tonight. Thanks to my talks with Lady Roslin I'm aware of paths one can take to escape the castle unnoticed, and the enemy army has become lax with inaction. With care and some luck us bards can slip past the siege lines and figure out the way back to Orlais from there." She said.

"You cannot do that! Your Emperor gave you strict orders to hold this castle! As my Lord gave to me!" Kenton protested.

"The Emperor gave those orders when he was still planning to win this war. That war is now over. I have to believe he values our lives as a resource more than stubbornly holding on to a castle that has lost strategic significance to the Empire."

"My Lord has given me a command and I will not disobey it." He said.

"For all I know your Lord is rotting somewhere ignoble. And I for one would feel silly doing the bidding of a corpse. But fine. I wasn't asking what your people are going to do."

"You must stay. Your people are required here to bolster our defenses." He said.

"True enough. Without us you'll probably get slaughtered here. Too bad for you. I will be generous and will allow your people to come with us when we go, provided they pull their weight and don't compromise my people in any way." She said with a smirk.

"You will go nowhere. I will not permit it." He said.

"Permit?" She sneered, then turned to leave. Things happened quickly then. One moment he was grabbing her by the shoulder to stop her, the next he found himself pinned against the wall, a knife to his throat.

"Never, ever, assume to get the jump on a bard. That kind of mistake could prove to be your last." She hissed. "I have had just about enough of you. And now there is no longer any alliance between us to make me stay my hand. Lucky for you I don't think you are even worth killing."

"My offer to your troops stand. But you? You are excluded. Since you wanted to stay here and die for your Lord, then that is exactly what you will do. You'll stay right in this castle and the enemy will kill you. You try to come with us and I'll kill you. Raise a hand to me, or do so much as irk me from this moment on, and I'll kill you. Do you understand?" She said, voice dripping with menace.

White like a ghost, Kenton nodded slowly. With a final look of contempt Agatha released him and strode from the room, leaving him quivering on the spot.

**The following morning…**

"Would you mind explaining again what is it that we are attempting to do here?" Brienne said to Jaime as the two were observing Riverrun.

"We are digging a tunnel under Riverrun's walls. As we dig the tunnel is supported with wooden beams. The walls will eventually come to rest on those beams as well. Once we have dug far enough fire will be set in the tunnel. When the tunnel collapses, so does the section of wall above it. Then we storm the breach and take the castle." Jaime explained.

"Interesting. And you came up with this idea by yourself?" She said.

"Not precisely. Tyrion once loaned me a book on the theory it might prove handy one day. The great sieges of Westeros it was called, by archmaester… by some archmaester whose name I could not pronounce even if my life depended upon it. Awful reading, but it had useful information. This tactic was among one of the passages." He said.

"I see. Do you think it will take much longer for our siege crews to finish?" She asked.

"Not long I'd wager. The reason this took as much time as it did was because we actually had to get below the river without flooding our own tunnels. That caused us complications. But now my engineers report they have finished digging. That's why I had the troops called to order.

Just then Jaime saw people emerging from the tent that hid the tunnel entrance. One of them came to him. "My Lord, the fire has been set."

"Good. Very good. Then now all there is to do is to wait for results." Jaime said.

For several minutes nothing happened, but smoke began billowing from the tunnel entrance. Then there was a deep rumble, the ground beneath their feet shuddering as long cracks appeared on Riverrun's walls. Then a thunderous noise followed as the wall came tumbling down, the rubble filling the moat, creating a makeshift bridge into the castle.

Brienne and Jaime nodded to each other and drew their swords. Jaime then turned to his soldiers.

"Attack." He shouted, pointing his blade at the castle. With him and Brienne in the lead a swarm of soldiers in red charged toward Riverrun. As they drew closer Jaime would have expected arrows to start hitting their ranks. But none came. Even when the Lannister troops began crossing the makeshift bridge and climbing the rubble to get to the breach there was nothing. No rocks, no oil, nothing.

"Perhaps the enemy had been caught unawares and none had reached their posts yet." Jaime thought as he clambered upwards with the others.

Brienne was the first to reach the top, where she was at last challenged by an enemy soldier. She cut down her opponent in short order. After that Jaime was at her side, cutting down another. Lannister soldiers streamed in after them and the battle inside the castle started in earnest. Brienne and Jaime fought together, she with the strength and skill she was known for, while he did his best to emulate that performance. He was still far removed from the swordsman he used to be, and in the past eight years he had certainly not gotten any younger. But even so his skill had improved over the years. Enough for him to do this part.

In the end the fight for the castle only lasted for about ten minutes before ending abruptly. The enemy fallen numbered well under fifty. Of the Lannister attackers only a handful had died. The rest were looking around, confused that the fight had ended so quickly.

"This can't possibly be all of them." Brienne said, keeping her sword at the ready, just in case.

"These are all in Westerosi armor. Where are the Orlesians?" She said, taking note of the bodies at her feet.

"Captain, divide your troops into squads. Search the castle. Find any other enemy troops and destroy them. And find me Lady Roslin and her son why you're at it." Jaime told the closest officer.

"Yes My Lord." Said the Captain.

"I do hope the rest of the enemy are still somewhere to be found. I would hate to have gone through all this effort for the majority of the enemy not to be here. It would feel like we have been played for fools." Jaime said to Brienne as his troops spread around to search the castle.

"Agreed. And I hope Lady Roslin and her boy are still ok." Brienne said.

"That too." Jaime concurred.

"My Lord. We have found them." The Captain said as he returned some time later. From behind his back emerged the lady of Riverrun, holding young Hoster by the hand. Both seemed tired and stressed out, but otherwise unharmed. Jaime smiled and stepped closer:

"My Lady. I am pleased that the enemy did not…"

A loud crack echoed in the courtyard as she slapped him across the face. On instinct the Lannister troops tensed for a moment before realizing she was surely no threat to their lord. Jaime could only stare at her in surprise, rubbing his cheek.

"For ignoring my orders and putting my son in danger." She said sharply. Then she grew calm again. "However, I am thankful that you freed us. And that you brought at least some of these fiends to justice."

"I am glad that I could be of service." Jaime said in a formal tone. "Tell me My Lady, do you know where the rest of the enemy might have gone."

"I believe they decided to flee sometime during the night. Doubtless with as much food and valuables as they could carry, adding theft to their other crimes. I suspect these ones refused to leave and decided to make a last stand instead. Other than that I know nothing. Were locked in our rooms, and not told much. I doubt we mattered much to the enemy by the end. We can only be thankful that they did not think to hurt us." She said.

"My Lord… you have already done much, and I am embarrassed to ask… but I could use your aid. By myself I must admit I am shorthanded. I ask access to your resources, to hire a new staff to the castle and restore a garrison here." She said then.

Jaime nodded. "Of course. Seeing as you are short on troops, I would be happy to lend you a contingent of my men until..."

"Pardon me my Lord. I would much rather have a Tully force defending Riverrun. You, ser Brienne and the required staff are welcome to stay here as my guests until matters are sorted, though I must apologize in advance for the state of the accommodations. Other than that, however, I would like your army to withdraw to another location, away from Riverrun. I am not... comfortable… in having them so close to my home." She cut in, holding up her hand.

"Ah. Because they are Lannister troops." He thought to himself, with no small amount of bitterness.

"I understand. That is well within your rights as the Lady of Riverrun. I shall have my forces do as you bid." He said aloud.

"Thank you. Not to appear blunt but after I have staff and soldiers of my own once again, I would appreciate if the rest of you left me in peace at that time. My son and I must mourn my husband properly. Afterwards there is rebuilding to be done." She said, a note of sadness visiting her voice when talking about her husband.

"Very well. We will remain only for as long as we are welcome, no longer." He said. He turned his attention to the breach. "For my part I'd wish to express my regrets that we damaged your castle during the assault, even though it was necessary. I would be willing to cover the expenses of rebuilding your walls, if you wish. As compensation."

"That is very generous of you My Lord Lannister. I accept your offer." Lady Roslin said.

**In King's Landing, two weeks later**

Ambassador Joubert sighed heavily, putting down a letter from the Emperor. It had arrived yesterday evening, and on the night that followed he had not slept at all. He had instead remained in his study, reading the words over and over, trying to force himself to accept them as real. Now dawn had arrived. It was time for him to perform his duty to the Empire. In some ways it was a relief that the war was now over and done with, but that did not take away the bitterness of defeat.

Slowly he stood up and walked to the door to his mansion. Along the way he motioned for six of his guards to follow him. Stepping outside he was met with the cool air of the early morning, the streets around him covered in a light mist.

This early in the morning most of the people of the city were still asleep. Some were about though, giving him hostile looks. But fortunately the citizens seemed to understand the meaning of ambassador well enough not to try anything else. Or maybe it was the presence of armed guards that deterred them from that.

Before the gates of the Red Keep he stopped and sighed again. Then he proceeded to announce himself to the guards protecting the gate. For reasons of security the entrance to the castle had kept closed for most of the war. But the guards knew who he was and after he had made it clear he was her on official business the way was opened for him. His path then took him to the tower of the hand and finally before Tyrion's chambers. There he was met by two more guards.

"The Lord Hand please. It is important." He told one of them.

"One moment, ambassador." The guard replied and vanished inside Tyrion's rooms. The ambassador was left standing outside the door for a time, patiently waiting. Then the soldier reemerged.

"The Lord Hand will see you now." The soldier told him. Joubert nodded and proceeded inside. He noticed Tyrion entering through another door and seat himself before his desk.

"Ah, Joubert. You're up early, I had barely risen myself. No matter. I had thought about summoning you later today anyway. You will be happy to hear that our efforts to keep the faiths from killing each other have been rather successful. Sure enough there have been some fights, but they have been broken up in short order before there was significant trouble. And the troops provided by the Thedosian ambassadors have done a great job in keeping the Chantry cathedral safe, including your guards. And while I can't tell you much, I have also been looking into the murder of the High Septon, found some promising leads, but also complications, which, pardon me, I would rather not tell you about at this time."

"My Lord…" Joubert interrupted calmly.

Tyrion paused, having noted the sad tone in his friend's voice. "What is it?" He asked.

"There has been a message from the Emperor. He has instructed me… he has instructed me to contact you, as well as the King and Queen, to begin arrangements to create a peace treaty between the Empire and the Kingdoms." Joubert said, leaving Tyrion stunned with surprise.


	53. Chapter 52

**Chapter 52; Peace & homecoming;**

**Characters of the chapter**

**Cassandra Pentaghast,** Lady Seeker of the Seekers of Truth

**Daenerys Targaryen, **The Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains, Queen of the of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men of the South, Queen of the South Kingdom of the Twin kingdoms and Protector of the Realm

**Gaspard de Chalons **Emperor of Orlais

**Iledia **Agent of the Inquisition

**Jon Snow, **also known as Aegon Targaryen and Jon Stark, King of the North Kingdom of the Twin Kingdoms

**Josephine Montilyet **Ambassador of the Inquisition, head of the Inquisition's diplomatic corps, member of the Inquisition War Council, advisor to the Lord Inquisitor

**Rydeon Cadash **Lord Inquisitor of the Inquisition, Lord of Skyhold

**Sansa Stark, **Lady of Winterfell and the Eyrie**, **Wardeness of the North

**Thorpe **Junior Grey Warden

**Varric Tethras **Viscount of Kirkwall, businessman, author

"Thanks for coming along to take part in these peace negotiations yourself." Rydeon said to Josephine, as he walked to where she was leaning against the ship's railing, staring at the rocky coastline. The ship they were on was on its final leg in the weeks long journey to Eastwatch by the sea. It was where the war between Orlais and the Twin Kingdoms had begun and so it would also be the place where the peace now in the works would be made.

"Oh, I have to be here. I must." Josephine said.

"Must?" He asked, wondering at the emphasis in her words.

Josephine sighed and bowed her head. "Do you remember how we found Westeros? How we became aware of their existence?"

"Antivan expeditions, after scholars noted that temperatures south of the Korcari Wilds had risen in a noticeable way." He said.

Josephine nodded. "I was one of the ones financing those expeditions. I always wanted to know what lay outside our maps. Now I know. And thousands are dead because of my curiosity."

"You can't be meaning to say that you think you are responsible for this war. It was Orlais that declared it. You had nothing to do with that." Rydeon tried to console her.

"But I am the reason they knew how to come here. Once they knew of these lands the rest was just a matter of time. The nature of Empires, Orlais in particular. If I hadn't… some things should not be poked around in. I can't undo what happened, but I can help fix this mess now. That is why I felt it was necessary to come here myself. For the sake of these people, as well as myself."

"If you will excuse me, Inquisitor. We will be arriving soon, and I need to see to something for the negotiations." She said.

"Josephine…" Rydeon said.

"I'll be alright. This just hit home recently, so I need to process the thought." She said and left.

Rydeon was left alone for a while. He hoped that Josephine was being honest about her ability to get over this. It was hard seeing her upset.

It was then that Iledia joined him, going to where Josephine had been earlier. "Inquisitor. I thought I'd come out for some air. And to admire this little procession we have here. Think about it: On this ship the Lord Inquisitor, the Lady Seeker, the Inquisition's chief ambassador and the Viscount of Kirkwall. On the other ship a short distance behind us the Emperor of Orlais himself. Very impressive."

"I'm glad you are enjoying the journey." He said.

The mage chuckled. "I do and I don't."

"The Lady Seeker is undoubtedly a good person, and on some level I wish I could be her friend. All the same she continues to dislike me. Being cooped up with her on a ship with nowhere to go when our tempers flare up... it can be trying, even for someone who is used to hostility on her part." She explained.

"I'm sorry. She will come around. One day." He said with sympathy.

"Will she now? You're being optimistic, as ever. I wish I shared your outlook. But I fear the problem is rooted. She cannot see me for who I am. She can only see my past, my choices. And perhaps at the end of the day she is right to be wary." She said.

"Why do you say that?" Rydeon asked.

"Because I am still me. Scales have fallen from my eyes, and I am able to see why the choices of my past were wrong. But I never renounced the reasons for making those choices in the first place. The things that drove me then drive me now. Now I'm just seeking a better way to get the things I am after. With that in mind it would be easy to think I might slip back to what I used to be. Because on some level I have never stopped being that person. So it is easy for me to understand why so many others would choose to distrust me. It is as Sister Nightingale said. The road to trust is a long one and I may find it longer than most. Some days I wonder if I will ever reach its end." She explained.

"If I may Inquisitor… why did you choose to trust me that day when I first came to you? You of all people? Why did you accept me when no one else would have? Before you I believed none but those of my own people would ever do so." She asked.

The Inquisitor sighed. "You have to remember that I wasn't always a perfect person either. Back in the carta days I cared about two things: Survival and profit. Not much room for anything else in that style of life. But when I ended up with the Inquisition I found out I wanted to be a better person, had always wanted it, and I took the opportunity with both hands. So you could say that I know a thing or two about giving a second chance to someone who genuinely wants to change. And on the day that you came to us… the pain in your eyes, the grief. You had seen something that had shocked you to your very core. At the time I didn't know what it was, but I saw that it had driven you to make new choices. Seeing that, I knew that you were honest. And so I knew you deserved a second chance."

"…Thank you." She said quietly.

Then she shook her head to clear her mind and moved on to the next topic: "Inquisitor, I believe we are near the end of our voyage? Before we arrive I'd like to ask you a favor."

"What favor?" Rydeon asked.

"I'd like you not to introduce me to the Queen just yet. It's alright if you tell her you are going to send me to her, but don't tell me I'm already with you." She said.

"I suppose I could do that. But why?" He said.

"I'd like a chance to observe the Queen from a distance. And when it is time I wish to contact her on my terms. It will cost you nothing and I will end up where you wanted me. Will you do it?" She said.

"If you wish." He said.

"Thanks." She said. The she frowned, closed her eyes and sighed loudly.

"Everything alright?" The Inquisitor asked.

"Yes. Just getting used to the thickness of the veil here." She said as she brought a hand to her face.

"If you don't mind… how does it feel to a mage? I have wondered." He asked.

For a moment Iledia was silent, considering how best to describe the sensation. "Imagine if you were covered by a thick blanket. One that does not simply cover you, but seeps into every pore of your being. Its presence dampens all your senses. Through it the world seems duller, muted, colorless. It's quieter."

"Will you be able to cope with it?" He asked.

"Yes, if other mages that have been to Westeros are to be believed. It just takes a while. I'm told it's a bit like wearing a shirt of chainmail. At first it feels heavy. Then your body gets used to the weight." She said.

"But once you remove the chainmail everything feels ridiculously light." He completed the metaphor.

"Indeed. I have been warned that once I return to Thedas I need to be careful with my powers until I have adjusted. The amount of magic that ignites a candle in Westeros is likely to set the table on fire back in Thedas."

"But speaking of things I have to get used to, I hear your proposal for Spellwatch went through?" She asked then.

"Yes. Barely, but it did. The Inquisition is moving to start training our first recruits as we speak." He said.

"I hope you know what you are doing. With that and many other things." She said.

"You still disapprove of being sent to Westeros to work for Queen Daenerys then?" He asked.

"I am still reluctant, if that is what you ask. And I still fail to see what line of reasoning led you to conclude that this would be a good idea. And as far as my personal goals go… this feels like the opposite of what I'm after. It's not often that you will see me act against the Imperium's interests. The only reason I agree to this is because I think my homeland still too corrupt to be allowed this victory. Only depravity would follow their triumph. To my sorrow and frustration I must deny them." She said.

"But I suppose this is just one more thing I will need to get used to. My reluctance will not impact the quality of my work, I promise you that much." She then added with a slight smile.

"Thanks for that. I believe the Twin Kingdoms need someone at their side who understands their opposition. And this might not be such an awful experience for you in the end. You did say you wish to have people who can depend on you for what you are. You might find those in Westeros." Rydeon said.

Iledia laughed. "You forget. That would be a friendship built on a lie. Were they to uncover the truth I have no doubt they would push me away like the rest. If I were to be revealed at an inopportune moment they might even kill me. I will do my duty, as I have decided it is right to do so. But friendship? I have no faith that I will find that among the Westerosi. At least not the kind that will outlive my deception."

The two might have conversed further, but their attention was caught by the sight ahead, in the distance. For now, for the first time in their lives, they beheld the immensity of the Wall.

"...Incredible… now there is an eye opener and no mistake." Iledia said when she had found her voice again. She had been told of this structure that marked the northern border of Westeros, but that had done nothing to prepare her for the sight.

"Yes. Incredible. I did not know such things could be built. I wonder how they managed it?" Rydeon said, no less in awe than she was.

"There must be magic involved." Iledia guessed. "I can't imagine a structure of ice that size could bear its own weight otherwise. Strange, I know. This is Westeros we are talking about after all. But I have no other explanation."

* * *

At the same time Daenerys had her eyed locked on Eastwatch by the sea and the banner fluttering in the winds at the castle's walls. Jon was right beside her, the rest of their entourage right behind them. That entourage consisted of Sansa, who had come as a witness to the signing of the peace treaty, a bunch of other lords and ladies of the realm and guards for the lot of them. Kieran was there as well, to meet with the Inquisitor, as well as for other reasons he had not specified. For an occasion as important as this they wore the very best their wardrobes could provide, for the first time in a long while setting aside their garments of war. Their armies were on the west coast to begin their efforts of countering the Qunari threat, or else were watching over the imprisoned Orlesian army in their care. Daenerys and Jon would join with them as soon as these peace talks were done. With the war against the Orlesian Empire coming to a close Yara had seen fit to turn her fleet around as well, heading back to defend her own islands as fast as the winds would carry her.

"Something the matter?" Jon asked of her.

"Just thinking." She replied, not moving her gaze. "Tell me, whose banner do you see there?" She asked, nodding towards the castle.

Jon glanced at the battlement, then back at her, puzzled.

"Don't worry. It's not a trick question." She said, a smile briefly tugging the corner of her mouth. "It's not the direwolf of the Starks, not even the dragon of the Targaryens. It's the eye of the Inquisition, grim and all seeing. Most of the castles along the wall are under their direct control, and even where the Watch still has the command the Inquisitions banners fly. Their troops and ambassadors are in evidence all over Westeros. They recruit from amongst our people freely and there isn't much anyone can do about it. They have a lot of power here. And all that is just the visible portion of their influence. Who knows how much further the part we cannot see might have spread?"

"Well, as strong as they are, these are still our Kingdoms. Even they have to respect that." He said.

"Are they still our Kingdoms, Jon? Sometimes I wonder. They never even bothered to ask our permission to come here. They just did it. Neither did they ask for our opinion on the safe zones they established during this war. They simply arranged them through nobles that by right should heed only our commands. Tyrion tells me they had a hand in keeping the faiths from butchering each other. I'm pleased that they did but again it was they that acted, making their influence known. If my Hand had not asked for their assistance, would they have simply done the same thing anyway? And this peace meeting? They arranged all of it as they promised to. And they will be remembered as the architects of this treaty. Tell me truly, is this what free and independent kingdoms permit to happen on their soil?" She said.

"Are you saying you're having second thoughts about this deal we are planning on making with the Inquisition?" He asked.

"No, no." She said shaking her head. "We need them. This has to happen. But this will come at a cost, make no mistake. Once our alliance with them is made, we will be committed to it. For better or worse we will enter their sphere of influence and for as long as there is an Inquisition we and our Kingdoms will not emerge from it. I just hope we can live with what we are about to do, because there will be no reversing that course." She said, then spurred her horse toward the castle Jon and the others following.

She rode through the gate, across the courtyard and out through the other gate leading to the docks. Just beyond the gates she stopped and dismounted. Jon appeared at her side moments later, followed by Sansa. At the docks two ships had just arrived, their passengers beginning to disembark. One had black sails, the eye-sword sigil of the Inquisition stitched to them in gold. The other was as ostentatious as any Orlesian ship, except even more so.

The passengers of the Inquisition ship were the first to set foot on the shore: Two women, one in armor and a rater severe appearance, another in a dress of dark blue and gold impressive enough to rival the clothes of any Queen and whose skin tone brought back memories of Missandei. Then there were the two men that Daenerys could only guess were Thedosian dwarves. She had herd heard spoken of these people before, but this was the first time she had laid eyes on their kind. Of course she had known the dwarves of Thedas to be a completely different case, but somehow she had still expected to see something akin to Tyrion. A false assumption to be certain. From the description given to her by the Kirkwall ambassador she was able to recognize Varric Tethras by his leather coat, the red shirt that left his chest exposed and the odd looking crossbow he carried even here. That meant the other one could only be Rydeon Cadash, the Lord Inquisitor himself, wearing the red and blue uniform the Inquisition used during formal occasions. Daenerys took note of his black hair tied into a bun behind his head, the braids in his beard, the tattoos on his cheeks and forehead, and perhaps most notably of all the empty sleeve where his left arm should have been.

"Dany… do you know the title by which the Inquisitor is to be addressed? I've quite forgotten." Jon whispered as the Inquisition entourage drew closer.

"Your Worship. And honestly, you managed to forget that, at a time like this? Sometimes I think you know nothing Jon." She whispered back. To her surprise Jon laughed at her words. "What's so amusing?" She asked.

"Oh nothing really. It's just something that Ygritte used to tell me a lot. I guess you've come to that conclusion as well." He explained, still smiling.

"Oh. I see…" She said, hiding a brief surprise. Rare indeed were the times Jon had spoken of his first lover. She barely knew the name of this other woman. That she had existed at all was revealed only after many years together, in a chance conversations of past loves. He had not even revealed what had ultimately happened to her. Not that Daenerys had gone out of her way to ask. It was obvious that whatever had happened, those were memories that still hurt, even after all these years, and it did not feel right to prod. If he asked of Drogo, perhaps then, as an exchange. But not until that time came.

"But now is not the time to dwell on this." She thought. Now was the time to attend to the reason they had come here.

"Lord Inquisitor. I am pleased to finally meet you in person. I have heard so many stories." She said in greeting.

"I am likewise honored to meet you Your Grace." Rydeon said in response. "Your Grace." He added, giving Jon a nod of acknowledgement as well.

"May I introduce Cassandra Pentaghast, the Lady Seeker of the Seekers of Truth and my wife. She's come here to be a witness to the signing of the peace agreement." He said, motioning to the woman in armor.

"Pentaghast? Isn't that the ruling family of Nevarra?" Daenerys asked.

"It is Your Grace. Though ours is a very large family. I myself am nowhere near the throne. Nor really that interested in my lineage if we are being perfectly honest." Cassandra said.

"It is an honor to be in the presence of another Nevarran My Lady. One you countrymen did a great deal to assist in the survival of the North. I am sad to say that in the end his efforts cost him his life." Jon said.

"Here we have Josephine Montilyet, the ambassador for the Inquisition. She will be mediating your talks with the Emperor." Rydeon continued on in his introductions.

"It is a pleasure Your Graces. I for one hope that the negotiations will be a success. I will do everything in my power to ensure that they are." Josephine said.

"I don't think anyone here is interested in making your job more difficult ambassador." Jon said.

"So long as the terms of that peace are acceptable." Sansa commented, to which Daenerys could only nod.

"Finally this is Varric Tethras Viscount of Kirkwall. He is here as a witness as well." Rydeon said.

"Wait… did you say Varric Tethras? THE Varric Tethras?" Sansa said, a sudden glint of excitement in her eyes.

"Yes. That's me. But why…?" Varric said uncertainly. Then he understood. "Oh. I think I get it. You've read one of my books haven't you? And enjoyed it by the sound of. Can't say I expected that, but it's not the first time fans of my works have cropped up in weird places. So, out of curiosity, which of my books was this? High in Hightown maybe? Or the Tale of the Champion?"

"Er, no… it's actually the, uh… your romance book. Swords and Shields?" She said, rubbing the back of her head.

For the second time Varric was surprised. "I… seriously? You're not joking right now?"

"No, of course not. Why would I be joking?" She asked, frowning.

"Oh, it's only that… that one isn't actually the most popular of my books. In fact you are only the second person I've ever met who has admitted to reading it and liking it." He explained.

"Well, what can I say?" She said with a smile. "The book brought back memories of simpler, happier times, days when it wasn't necessary to worry over kingdoms and nations. That alone made it a worthy read."

"Who was the other one?" She asked then.

"Well that would be…" Varric said before a cool glare from Cassandra silenced him. "…Actually I think she'd rather remain anonymous."

The exchange did not escape Sansa's notice, making her smile again. "No matter. Though I wonder… your first book ends rather abruptly. I was wondering if there might be another one that would continue where the first one left off. I tried to search for it, but can't seem to find it anywhere."

"I have written the next book but never got around to publishing it. I'll see about getting you a copy if you want." Varric said.

"It does seem you and the Viscount will have much to talk about. But I would rather that happen only after official matters of state have been attended to. I for one have an Empire to run, a task I should return to as soon as possible, particularly in the light of these recent events." A new voice spoke. Daenerys, Jon and Sansa all tensed when they saw the person that had spoken. They had never seen him before, but they could guess who he was easily enough. Before them was Emperor Gaspard de Chalons, surrounded by his guards and advisors. The man responsible for this invasion, the one whose commands had cost the Twin Kingdoms the lives of everyone killed in this war.

"Emperor Gaspard." Daenerys said coolly. *Your Majesty* might have been the more appropriate way to address him, but she could not, would not call him that.

"In the flesh. We meet at last. Would that it had happened under different kind of circumstances." He said with equal coldness.

"If you wished for better circumstances for our first meeting, perhaps you should not have invaded our lands." She said.

Josephine cleared her throat, eager to move on from this awkward confrontation. "Well. Seeing as we are all here, perhaps we might head inside and…"

"Not quite yet." Daenerys interrupted. "First I have a question that I would have the Emperor answer for me."

"You do? Hmmm. Very well. Ask away Your Grace." The Emperor said.

"A number of Upstart Houses betrayed us in this war. Their leaders have paid for their action with their lives. But of what remains of those families we have found no sign. I know their betrayal happened on your orders. I also have reason to believe they may have fled to Orlais."

"Daenerys, maybe this isn't worth pursuing? Those families are gone from Westeros. If they do not return…" Jon said.

"Don't interfere. Not this time." Daenerys replied tersely.

"Is this so? Is Orlais where they have fled?" She demanded, her tone one that made clear she would accept neither silence nor lies.

"It is so. They are safe there. Guests of the Empire." Gaspard said.

"Guests? Well that's one term for it." Daenerys sneered. "Those families are traitors. They should be turned over to us, to face proper judgement for their betrayals. In fact I will insist on it."

"I'm afraid I cannot acquiesce to this request. The Empire of Orlais has granted sanctuary to the families you speak of. They are protected from any retaliation from you and yours." He said.

"So the Empire is in the habit of protecting traitors, then? By what right do you help them escape justice?" She said scornfully.

"They are not traitors to Orlais. Quite the contrary in fact. In choosing to take the Empire's side they became my subjects. And they performed their duties admirably even if the war was ultimately not won. As they are my subjects, I will defend them." He said.

"Please, Your Majesty, Your Grace! This is not the time for this kind of discussion! There is much yet to do. I am certain that a compromise can be reached, but we must maintain civility." Josephine said.

"Civil? Civil!? You expect me to be civil before this warmonger? After everything he…" She began to say. Then she caught herself. She had to remember why they had come here in the first place. There were more important matters to attend to. Continuing to bicker about this further would only embarrass her and Jon. That would not do. Besides, she ultimately didn't need to have those families here…

"Fine." She said after taking a deep breath. Since you won't turn those families over, I will pass judgement now. Let it be known that the Upstart houses that betrayed the Twin Kingdoms are hereby banished from all lands belonging to the South Kingdom, under the penalty of death, from this day until the end of time."

"Understood. Does the North Kingdom make the same declaration?" The Emperor said.

"It does. It seems more than fair considering what those families have done." Jon said, silently relieved that the argument had not escalated further.

"Well then. The sooner we start these talks, the sooner we will finish. Shall we?" Josephine said.

Everyone gathered nodded in a chorus and stated to move inside the castle, where the negotiations would be held.

"So, I understand your family name is Stark?" Varric said to Sansa, thinking to lighten the mood.

"That's right." She said, frowning, unsure why he had asked that.

"Just wondering, have you ever been to Starkhaven? A city in the Free Marches?" He asked next, a glint in his eye.

"I have never been outside Westeros. …Why?" She asked.

"Well, had you been there you would have been a Stark in…"

"Varric, no." Cassandra said while facepalming.

"But…" He tried to protest.

"No!" The Seeker said more insistently. Varric grumbled but kept his silence.

"Looks like you have you have quite a project ahead of you. Starting with keeping our negotiators from killing each other." Rydeon said to Josephine in a low voice in the meantime.

Josephine suppressed a chuckle. "Indeed. I can already tell this will be a very long, very tiring day." She said equally as quietly.

"If it helps I have absolute faith in your ability to see this through." He said. "Is there anything I might do to help things along?" He asked then.

"Not with the negotiations themselves I'm afraid. I have your instructions on the things you wish to have contained in the treaty. The rest is best left to me. Although… there is this herbal teal I like to drink. It helps to soothe my nerves. But no, I would not impose upon you." She said.

"Why ever not? You would like that tea made for you, correct? I would be happy to do that for you." He said.

"Rydeon, you're the Inquisitor, not some errand boy. What would people think?" She said.

"If the things I did during the breach war have taught me anything, it is that running errands is an integral part of being an Inquisitor." He joked.

"Seriously speaking though, I want these talks to go smoothly. If doing this will help matters then I would be glad to do so. I will be sure to be discreet, so I won't do damage to the dignity you have so carefully cultivated for my rank" He added.

"Very well then, if you're sure. You will find the ingredients and the instructions for making the tea in my cabin." She said, relenting.

And so began the negotiations for peace between the Twin Kingdoms and the Orlesian Empire. As predicted the talks were difficult, lasting for the entire day, with almost no breaks had for the participants. Fortunately the Inquisition had been working on a preliminary outline for the peace treaty and discussions between rulers had already occurred through letters, otherwise this would have taken even longer. The cooks at Eastwatch by the sea did their best to provide sustenance to the people involved, thankfully from quality ingredients provided by the Inquisition for just this occasion. As the talks were ongoing Rydeon ensured that Josephine received her tea, sending it through one of his soldiers to keep up appearances as they had agreed.

It was a torturously slow process, but little by little an agreement began to form. Gaspard eventually, reluctantly, agreed to acknowledge the Empire as the instigator of this conflict. It was agreed that Orlais would provide one tenth of the average annual value accumulated by the corridor until the material expenses this war had incurred on the Twin Kingdoms had been paid for in full. Then further one tenth of the corridors revenue would be paid annually by the Empire until such a time that a value equal to what the Corridor earned in a single year's time had been paid, as compensation for the Empire wrongfully starting a war of aggression. The Inquisition would handle all calculations regarding the reparations, since neither side trusted the other to provide accurate numbers. The Westerosi monarchs tried to push to have their merchants make use of the corridor at reduced prices, just as the Orlesian merchants did, but the Emperor would hear none of it. In his mind he had given more than enough concessions already. The prisoners captured by both sides would be released and returned to their homelands for no additional demands from either side. Despite the lingering Qunari threat this was one of the few points the monarchs and the Emperor could agree on almost immediately. Daenerys and Jon were just as eagerto get rid of this foreign army as Gaspard was to have it back. Neither were any of them interested in having to pay ransom for their captured nobility so both sides simply returning the prisoners they had was an agreeable arrangement. Neither would either side receive any territorial concessions. As a minor concession to the Empire the Westerosi would agree to return the Sunblade to the Empire along with the body of its wielder. The Inquisition for its part agreed to help all involved nations in any post-war recovery efforts, and to further normalize their relations. As a small additional detail thrown in by Rydeon, the Emperor was made to agree to appoint himself a magical advisor from both the College and the Circles. This way the Inquisitor hoped to help both institutions integrate without favoring one or the other, thus preserving the delicate balance between them. Gaspard was not exactly happy to agree to that given his distrust of mages in general, but agree to it he did. Hannah of Starkhaven was chosen as the representative of the College in recognition of her outstanding service on the battlefield. As for the Circles Rydeon was almost certain Vivienne would be retaking her position in the Imperial court.

With the details finally worked out the rulers and the gathered witnesses signed their names. Then it was done, to surprisingly little ceremony and fanfare. Everyone was simply glad it was over and done with, not to mention exhausted by hours and hours of debating.

The Inquisition entourage agreed to spend the night in Eastwatch and start the journey back to Thedas in the morning. Gaspard on the other hand set course back to his homeland at once, to manage the popularity crisis brewing there due to this failed campaign. With some fortune he would manage to claw back the favor of his people, and things would return to normal in short order. Nonetheless Rydeon made a mental note to put the Inquisition assets in Orlais on standby, in case more serious unrest arose in the Empire. He was of course still displeased by Gaspard's and Briala's decision to start this war, but that did not enter into it. This was not about either of them. If the Inquisition intervened, it would be for the benefit of the people of Orlais first and foremost. The Emperor had his share of domestic enemies, some of which might see this as the chance to start the rebellion they had long contemplated, which Gaspard would be compelled to try to crush, his methods unlikely to be gentle. If it came to that a lot of innocents might die in the fighting, just as had happened during the last Orlesian civil war. Better the Inquisition step in and act as a calming influence to ensure this scenario never materialized.

Some might also decide that Briala's presence at the Emperor's side was sufficient excuse to take out their frustrations about this defeat on the elves. Until matters settled down they would need protecting. Briala would no doubt take steps to ensure the safety and wellbeing of her people, as ever. Where her means were lacking, the Inquisition would provide in turn. She might share responsibility for this conflict, but her people did not deserve to pay the price for this.

* * *

At sunset, as the talks were starting to wind down, a lone merchant vessel sailed past Eastwatch, one of the first of its kind now that the trade lanes between Thedas and Westeros were open again. On the deck of that ship a woman in the Grey Warden uniform stood, looking at the Wall and the castle next to it. She was shortly joined by another Grey Warden by the name of Thorpe.

"Arya. I must say I'm surprised to see you of all people here at this hour. After all the Wall isn't anything new to you." He said.

"Not new, no. But it has been many years since I saw it last. And I had rather thought that time would be the last time." Arya answered.

"They're probably right there now, aren't they?" She added, nodding towards Eastwatch.

"Most likely yes. I understand the peace talks were supposed to be held today." Thorpe replied. "You know, if it's not for long the captain could probably be convinced to stop by, give you a chance to meet with your folk."

Arya was silent for a time, clearly tempted by the suggestion. "Don't get me wrong. I want to. I really want to. But… I don't think I'm ready."

"When I left, I never said any goodbyes, never offered any explanations. And I haven't been in contact with them since. I can't just go back after that. It would be just… awkward. I wouldn't even know where to begin explaining where I've been, what I've done and why." She explained.

"And… maybe I don't deserve to see them again." She said, hanging her head.

"Why do you say that?" He asked, frowning.

"Because before I heard about the Orlesian invasion I never had the slightest intentions of coming back. I had stopped thinking about my old life, my family. I hate myself for having done it, but I allowed myself to forget them, and if Orlais hadn't started this war I wouldn't have bothered to remember. How could I do that and ever have the right to be in their presence again?" She said.

After that outburst there was a lengthy, uneasy silence.

"I… I didn't mean to open old wounds, I'm sorry." Thorpe said finally.

Arya gave a sad smile. "Don't be. You didn't. It's just… being in Westeros again… it brings up all kinds of baggage. Things I thought were dead and buried. Maybe that was one of the reasons I originally left."

Then she shook her head. "Let's just talk about something else, ok? I don't want to think about this right now."

"Sure thing. Actually I came to tell you that I and the others were planning on playing a few rounds of cards before turning in for the night. Want to join us?" Thorpe said.

She smiled again, more warmly than last time. "Sure."

With that the two left the deck to go join the others. As the merchant ship slipped by without catching anyone's attention, Arya stopped briefly and took one last look at Eastwatch before going below decks. She found herself unable to concentrate on her card game with her fellow wardens, haunted as she was by memories of home, torn between the craving to reconnect with her family and her unwillingness to bring back a life she had long since left behind her. She knew she would have to find a solution to those conflicting desires, but also that this was not the day she would succeed.


	54. Chapter 53

**Chapter 53; Now we forge a new alliance;**

**Characters of the chapter **

**Brandon Stark, **also known as the Three Eyed Raven, mage advisor to the court of King Jon

**Daenerys Targaryen, **The Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains, Queen of the of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men of the South, Queen of the South Kingdom of the Twin kingdoms and Protector of the Realm

**Iledia **Agent of the Inquisition

**Jon Snow, **also known as Aegon Targaryen and Jon Stark, King of the North Kingdom of the Twin Kingdoms

**Kieran, **Agent of the Inquisition, mage advisor to the court of King Jon

**Rydeon Cadash **Lord Inquisitor of the Inquisition, Lord of Skyhold

At sunset, after the peace talks were concluded, Daenerys and Jon sought Rydeon out, to converse with him in private.

"I must thank you on behalf of us both, for assisting us with these negotiations." Daenerys said as the three were talking in a secluded corner of the fort.

"We were happy to do that. After all, one of the purposes of the Inquisition is to promote the cause of peace." Rydeon said.

"And yet you possess an army? A very powerful one at that." Jon commented.

"Well, sometimes peace requires us to have military power at our side. That is not a preferred tool of the Inquisition, but at times it is the only one. And peace is only one half of our mandate. The other one is to keep this world safe from things that would destroy it." The Inquisitor said.

"The fact that you have an army may prove to be fortuitous." Daenerys said. "Because of your ties to the Empire you were unable to assist us directly. We respect that, even if we consider those circumstances very unfortunate. But now our Kingdoms will have to face new opponents, ones that to my knowledge you would have no such issues with. We were hoping we could convince you to lend us aid against them."

"I can see why that might be. Qunari are not an enemy any nation would wish to face on their own." Rydeon said in contemplation.

"The Inquisition does not count the Qunari as our friends at this time. I believe we can have our forces join your efforts." Rydeon decided.

"As it happens, this is a happy coincidence. I know we haven't always seen eye to eye on all matters, particularly in how we established ourselves in Westeros without permission from either of you. But for some time I have been hoping we could put those differences behind us and build a more cooperative relationship between the Inquisition and your Kingdoms." He added.

Jon and Daenerys shot surprised glances at each other. They had been hoping to convince the Inquisitor to help them, only to realize they barely needed to. This had been far easier than they had expected. Too easy. There had to be some kind of catch.

"And why is that?" Jon asked.

"Beyond adding more to the list of the Inquisition's allies and expanding our influence in general? There are some mutual enemies that I believe will require our joint efforts if they are to be defeated." Rydeon explained.

"You mean Tevinter, don't you?" Daenerys asked, while giving Jon a look of *I told you so*.

"Them and more than them." Rydeon commented. "What do you know of a group called the Venatori?" He asked.

To Daenerys's surprise it was Jon who answered. "A cult of Tevinter supremacists I believe. Extremists that you fought during the Breach War, one of the several groups working for the creature called Corypheus."

"I'm impressed. You've been reading about Thedosian history I see." Daenerys commented.

"With so many new foreigners getting involved with Westeros it felt necessary to learn more about them." Jon said with a shrug. "See? I do know some things." He added in jest, making her chuckle.

Rydeon felt this was an inside joke he had no hope of understanding, so he just moved on. "I see you have some knowledge of them, but perhaps I should still tell you of their more recent history. After we defeated them during the Breach War, they retreated back to Tevinter and there fractured into two rival groups that soon started fighting each other: One was the Reformers, who wanted to rebuild Tevinter to a better, more just foundation, while rejecting concepts like worshipping Corypheus as a god. Second faction, the Loyalists, continue with the original thinking of the group, modifying the more religious aspects of their ideology to suit the developments that befell them during the Breach War. Sadly for all of us it was the Loyalists who emerged victorious from the Venatori civil war, becoming the dominant group. Since then they have been pursuing their goal of restoring Tevinter to its former glory, at any cost. The depravities going on in Essos… it has the Loyalist handprints all over it. I'm certain that they are pulling the strings behind the scenes there. But that continent does not mark the end of their ambitions. The Venatori will always be aiming for more than they have, and your Kingdoms are the next logical target."

"So you believe that the Imperium and this group… that they are a threat to us?" Jon asked.

"Without the shadow of a doubt." Rydeon said. "Not to say all Tevinters are bad mind you. Indeed I count some as my friends. But their nation as a whole is dangerous. Very dangerous. If you ever need to know why, I suggest you take a look at a map of Thedas. First locate Seheron to the north. It's the largest island in Thedas so finding it should not be too difficult. Next turn your attention to southern Ferelden and locate the ruined fortress of Ostagar. Then consider the fact that aside from some barbarian peoples Tevinter at one time ruled just about everything between those two points. And before the first blight and Andraste's Exalted March there were none who could truly challenge their rule. If they are left unchecked, they will become that again, except this time they will have more world to rule, and this time there might be no Andraste to free us from their yoke. And the Venatori Loyalists are the worst of the bunch. They will resort to any and all tactics that will get them what they want."

"But if this is what they intend then why haven't they struck us already? What is the Imperium waiting for?" Jon said, still sounding somewhat skeptical.

"I believe there was a general of Yi-Ti I once read about. A great war leader of whom it was said that he never lost a single battle in his life. Of his military knowledge he wrote a book of quotes. One of those quotes went something like this: *Defeated warriors go to war and then seek to win. Victorious warriors win first and then go to war." Rydeon said as his answer.

"I believe that to be the game the Imperium is playing. They want to ensure that by the time they engage you they have already won and all they have to do is to complete their triumph. Furthermore they don't just want to defeat you and seize your lands. They want to crush you with ease, so the whole world knows they have returned to power and that there is no point in resisting them." He then explained.

"So what needs to be done to avoid that?" Daenerys asked.

"The dragon is a powerful weapon in the arsenal of your Kingdoms, there's no doubt about that. If not for him you would have likely lost this war with Orlais. That is also one more reason why Tevinter hesitates, particularly when they hear what has transpired here. But you cannot rely on the Dragon alone. You have already seen attempts to counteract him. Those attempts failed, but if another of your enemies were to succeed and you not have a backup plan to fall back on… your gods protect you then. You need a broader basis of support. I can help you with that. As my first act in helping you, I would like to send a magical advisor to you, Queen Daenerys, since you do not yet have one."

"A magical advisor? A mage?" She said. Rydeon was surprised to hear some reluctance in her voice.

"Yes. You will need someone who has an understanding of magic and who can use it to your benefit. Furthermore you need someone who understands the enemy you have in the Imperium and the Venatori. The mage I would send to you can offer both. Furthermore she has a network of contacts which you will find most valuable.

"Dany, this could be a real boon for you. Kieran has been working for me some time now. His efforts basically saved Winterfell when we were under siege. And the mage healers Sansa and Davos recruited saved many lives, including that of Sansa herself, if you recall. If have seen enough of Thedosian magic, both as a victim and someone who benefitted to know it would be very good for you to have someone like that at your side." Jon told her in a low voice.

Daenerys nodded slowly. "Very well. Send this mage to me. I will talk with her and decide after if I want to have her services."

"It shall be done, Your Grace." Rydeon said with a nod. "And I will begin coordinating Inquisition support to you as soon as I am able."

"Excellent. Then there is only one more matter to discuss." She said.

"Oh?" Rydeon said.

Daenerys nodded. "You agents have been sneaking around all over Westeros, seemingly clashing in clandestine battles with elves of all things. And you have been doing your damnedest to hide the evidence of you having done so. Previously the only answers we have received from you or the Divine have been nothing except deflection. But if we are to be working together, I do believe honesty to be very important. So care to explain what is going with that?"

Rydeon considered for a moment, then sighed heavily. "I suppose you are right, though I did have my reasons to keep silent. Several reasons. But very well. You might as well hear it now. But I must insist you discuss what I'm about to tell you with no one else."

Rydeon only resumed speaking after he had received a nod of agreement from both of them.

"You see, the elves the Inquisition has been battling are agents of a friend I made during the Breach War, another elf by the name of Solas. Also known by his title: The Dread Wolf." He said.

"A former friend, then?" Jon asked.

"No, I still consider him a friend in many ways. But after the Breach War I discovered he was working on some terrifying plans, plans I hope to turn him away from. But until and unless I manage to do so I cannot afford not to act against his efforts. None of us do." Rydeon said.

"What plans could he possibly have that would lead you to raise a hand against a friend? So much so that you would kill his people?" Jon asked, even more perplexed.

Rydeon paused again, unsure if he should tell them. If he told them what his friend intended to do, would they refuse to believe it and brand him a madman? Or would they react too strongly at the news, bringing disastrous consequences? But in the end it was as the Queen had said. Trust was important in their future partnership and if he withheld this information from them they would only get more suspicious. Now that he had started talking about this, he might as well go in all the way.

"He wishes to restore and older state of the world, a time when the elves ruled supreme. Unfortunately were he to succeed it would mean the end of our world as we know it. The Breach and the resulting war happened because of meddling on his part that went terribly wrong. Had he succeeded though, he would have used the instrument that created the breach to tear down the veil between our world and the fade and burned it all clean. So you can be sure he had the will to accomplish his ends. The means to do so were denied to him, so now he seeks an alternative, which I intend to keep him from finding, hence the operations you have noted." He explained.

Jon and Daenerys looked at each other, less than certain what to make of this. This seemed a wild tale. Impossible. Insane. Yet he had told it with such conviction. And he had referenced the Breach, which they knew had been a real event, well recorded in the recent histories of Thedas.

"If this is true, why weren't we informed? I would think the potential end of the world is a subject that ought to concern us." Daenerys demanded.

"Because there is a very clear distinction between the elves that fight for Solas and the elves in general. As far as I know he isn't doing this for the benefit of the elves of today, but rather for the elves of ancient times that have somehow endured throughout the ages. Even if I am wrong about that there are elves who have no involvement with him and so are blameless in his actions. I did not know you, so I was not certain that you could make the distinction; that you would not simply choose to purge all elves to be on the safe side. Even if you bothered to differentiate between groups of elves, would your nobility? Would the commoners that live in you lands? Elves have as much right to live as any of us and I will not subject them to genocide because of what some intend." He said.

"Furthermore, were you to act against him on your own I have my doubts you would accomplish much. I'm sure you're able leaders in many ways, but the methods he employs are such that you are ill prepared to counter them. He would not show himself openly to you as an enemy. Instead he acts in the shadows unseen and unnoticed. If you did not even know he exists before I told you, how are you meant to fight him?" He added.

"And I suppose you believe yourself the only one capable of doing so?" She asked, her doubts plain in her tone.

"The Inquisition is better suited to opposing him, certainly, and I have the advantage of knowing at least something about him. But even we will find stopping his plans difficult on our own I'd wager. He is one of the smartest people I've ever met. One may think to be winning against him, only for him to then reveal the nature of the game was different than was believed and that victory was his all along. And unfortunately he knows the Inquisition and our methods. Which is why I have been seeking new allies, people he does not know. Now that I have told you of him perhaps you might be counted among those allies as well?" He said.

"That depends Your Worship. You spin a very strange tale. I don't know if I believe it yet." Jon said.

"My thoughts exactly." Daenerys echoed.

"I know. It does sound outlandish, does it not? But you asked me to explain the Inquisition's activities in Westeros and I have. But you needn't concern yourself overmuch about this for the moment. For sure you will be busy with more immediate threats to your Kingdoms. For now all I ask is that if you hear something new related to Solas, either under that name or the title I mentioned, you would inform us. We will take it from there. And later on, in return for my help against your current enemies, should I need something more of you, you will provide it." Rydeon said.

"Does that sound fair to both of you?" He asked.

The two rulers considered, then gave their approval.

* * *

As the conversation between the royals and the Inquisitor was ongoing, Iledia looked on from above, standing close to where Eastwatch's guard tower had once been.

"Kieran." She greeted as the other mage joined her. "It's been a long time. I think the last time was that time the Inquisitor sent you on that job in Carastes, right?"

"I remember. We made a surprisingly good team. Good times. With this new assignment the Inquisitor has sent you on we are sure to get new opportunities to work together." Kieran replied.

"I take it the Inquisitor has already filled you in?" She asked.

"He has, though I actually had some prior information as well. Don't worry, you'll know the how fairly soon." He said.

"Observing the Queen?" He asked, having taken note what the other mage was looking at so keenly.

"Mm-hmm." She hummed in affirmation. "I want to know her better, to learn what she is like. I'm good at that you know. Watching people from afar and gauging their nature."

"So? What do your eyes tell you?" He asked.

"Hmm. Undoubtedly she is a very strong person. She carries herself with pride and self-confidence, though she is weighed down by her many concerns. I would also say she is very driven in reaching her goals, to the point of being obsessed over them." She said in contemplation.

"That actually sounds a lot like you." Kieran said with a smile.

Iledia paused, giving Kieran a strange look.

"She also apparently has quite the temper, based on that little scene she had with the Emperor. It seems to me it would be unwise to make her angry. Being on the receiving end of that would be unpleasant. And like with all of us, anger will compromise her otherwise highly strategic mindset." She said then.

"So, do you have anything to add to my observations?" She asked.

"Not when it comes to the Queen. I have not had many dealings with her. But the King is a good man, and the two are obviously in love. That must mean she is a good person as well." He said.

"Not necessarily true Kieran. Good people fall in love with terrible individuals all the time. But I'll grant you it's an encouraging sign. But enough of that. I'm sure you did not seek me out just to have a chat with me." She said.

"In this case that is true, though I do enjoy our talks." He said. "Lord Brandon sends his regards. He wishes to converse with you. Tonight."

Iledia looked surprised. "He came all this way for me? A crippled man?"

"Not quite. Anyway, he will be in contact with you soon. It was good to see you again. Farewell and, uh, sleep well?" He said, then left without another word.

"Sleep…well? What?" She said, utterly puzzled.

* * *

That night she stirred, finding herself standing on an open, featureless plain. Around her rocks were floating in the air, accompanied by many other strange sights everywhere. Looking upwards she saw that the skies were of a greenish hue.

"Greetings." She heard a voice from behind her. Turning she saw a young man walking towards her with unhurried steps, his arms crossed behind his back.

"Who… who are you?" She asked, cautiously.

"Some call me Brandon Stark, though that has not been entirely accurate for some time. To others I am known as the Three Eyed Raven. Kieran told you to expect a visit from me did he not?" He replied, briefly making Iledia wonder what he had meant by his name not being an accurate descriptor of him.

"He… he did. Though I did not realize he meant here. Uh, by the way, where is here exactly?" She said, looking around herself.

Bran smiled. "As a mage of Thedas you ought to know. Think about it."

Iledia frowned, concentrating. Then the truth dawned on her. She turned and saw far in the distance a large, dark outline of a city. She had seen it before many times, as had everyone in the world with the ability to dream, although most days only mages had a chance of remembering what they had seen. But with that sight she knew where she was.

"This… this is the Fade?" She asked. Instantly she considered the possibility that the person before her was not the real Brandon Stark but rather a spirit impersonating him. But her instincts told her that was not the case. This was the real thing. But that made this even stranger. Never had she heard of someone being able to contact another in the Fade like this. Common wisdom suggested that such a thing was not possible due to the nature of the fade. Yet this one had somehow managed to do so.

"Yes. Your physical body is asleep at this time. I hope my method of contacting you is agreeable. This is far more convenient for me, given my injuries." He said.

"You and the Inquisitor have made a wise choice in hiding your identity from Jon and Daenerys. They would not have understood. For now that secret is better kept from them. But do not wait overlong to reveal the truth to them. Taking too long to do so will only do harm. I of course know the truth of you." He said then.

"How do you know of that? Did Kieran tell you?" She asked, astonished that Kieran might have been so bold as to reveal that information to another.

"He did not have to. I saw you make those decisions. And once I knew you were going to be coming here I made sure to study you with great care. I have seen the story of your life. But you need not be concerned. Your secrets are safe with me until you choose to reveal them." He said.

"You saw it?" She asked, becoming more puzzled by the minute.

"I see many things. Things that were. Things that are. Even some things that have not yet come to pass." He explained.

Iledia considered what he was claiming to be capable of. The first two points were believable. Mages seeking knowledge often sought it in memories preserved in the fade. And in the same vein the Fade could be used to view events happening over great distances, a method employed for scouting and spying. As for the third claim Lord Brandon had made…

"Precognition you say? That is in an exceedingly rare talent, but I have heard of some people possessing this power. Flemeth, the Witch of the Wilds is said to have had this ability. Then there is Eleni Zinovia…"

"… advisor and consort to Archon Valerius. Yes. I believe I have met her." Bran finished for her.

"You... what?" She stammered.

"The fade is a very strange place." He said as his explanation. "But perhaps we might move on to the reason why I came to see you?"

"Yes. Why did you ask to see me?" She asked.

"Since you are to be working with Jon and Daenerys I thought to introduce myself. I too wish to have you as an ally, like Kieran is to me." He explained. "It is good that you are here. Jon and Daenerys are going to need you. Sorely. Against the Qunari…"

"And my own…?" She asked.

Briefly Bran went silent. "I know you are reluctant. And I know your reasons for hesitating. Your love for your people is fierce, all consuming. The very thought of opposing your people as they are on the cusp of victory fills you with revulsion. Your heart weeps at the thought of harming them. At one time the Imperium's triumph would fill you with joy. With a Tevinter more aligned with your vision it still would. But I also know what drove you to choose the unthinkable. You have seen a nightmarish possibility of the future in the mind of the Inquisitor. The knowledge of that future was what drove you to join him."

Iledia did not bother to ask how Lord Brandon could have knowledge of these things, but the fact that he did made her feel uncomfortable. With him there was obviously no keeping secrets.

"That future could very well still happen if the Loyalist Venatori are not stopped. Or something near enough that it makes no difference. We must strive together now, you and Kieran and I, to guide Westeros and its leaders to victory over the Imperium, if that future is to be prevented. Otherwise all will fail in sadness, and the world will fall before their armies." He continued.

It was Iledia that went silent in turn then. "…To prevent the future you speak of I am willing to work with the King and Queen. If you strive to prevent that future I may be willing to include you in that statement as well. But there is a price I demand for my cooperation. The same price I asked of the Inquisitor when I joined forces with him: The survival of my people. Failure in the coming war risks to undo them. I will not allow that. I may need to fight them, to prevent some possibilities from happening. But I will not be the one to destroy them, or the one to stand by and watch as others do it. As you said I love my people, too much to permit that. There was an Imperium before this, and there will be an Imperium after this. Promise me that, and I will join with you. Help me help my people survive, through this and after, and I in turn will help you stop their conquest of Westeros. Otherwise I have nothing more to say." She finally said.

"Agreed. The survival of your people in exchange of the survival of the peoples of Westeros. I will strive for it with all the means open to me." Bran said.

Iledia could not help but scoff. "Should not be too difficult for you, if you told it true. You claimed to be able to see the future. Simply choose the paths that will allow us to save both peoples."

"I'm afraid it is not quite as easy as that. If it were the First Men would have never defeated the Children of the Forest." Bran replied. "For one seeing the future and changing it to suit you are two different things. And prophecy is not a certain thing either. If I am permitted to use an analogy, history is a book being written and the future is the chapters that are yet unfinished. One can read earlier chapters and come to a reasonable conclusion about what future chapters will contain. Some events are fixed points. I know of at least one such moment with certainty. Something that had to happen because paradoxically it already had, so only timelines that contained the event were possible for us. But much else remains in flux, and I only see the possibilities that are likely from the current point of you. And of late seeing the future has been exceptionally hard. It is as if someone or something wishes me not to know the future and seeks to blur my vision. I do not know the exact nature of it. Something hidden, but powerful enough to hinder even my sight. Power of that magnitude is cause for concern in its own right."

"Could this be the Dread Wolf's doing? Since you know of the rest, then doubtless you know of him as well." She offered.

Bran paused. "I have considered this possibility. He too is our enemy. And he knows we are his. He may be trying to stop me from seeing to keep me from acting against him, failing to see how he endangers his work as well in so doing. If we fail because I cannot see enough he too might fall to Tevinter. Certainly it would not be the first time he has made a disastrous mistake like that. But perhaps he calculates that he will succeed before the Imperium can crush him as well."

"Will he? What will happen with him?" She asked.

"I do not know this yet. The conflict with him is yet to come, and it shall be the task of others to stand against him then and save the world in turn. Our work will be to ensure these others can have their chance."

"Which others are these?" She asked eager to know who were needed. Who had to survive.

"Sadly also unknown. That has been especially difficult to see. You could well be among them, since your homeland is likely to be at the heart of the conflict. But I cannot say for certain that you will be, or what part you might play." He said.

"So how often can you actually predict the future? When things work as they should I mean?" She asked, frustrated at his cryptic answers.

"Often. But even one that sees as clearly as I can sometimes err. I once thought likely a future where King's Landing burned, where the Dragon Queen died and I was named King, a future where my small council managed the affairs of the realm, while I provided them with guidance and lent them the authority bestowed upon me. But fate chose differently, and here we are. But your real question was if I am useful enough to you to justify our alliance." He said.

She nodded, and said nothing.

"I will do all I can to guide you on a path that will allow you to protect the world and your people both, but that is the best I can do." He said.

"Then I hope the best you can do is enough to get the required results. But very well. We have an agreement for now." She said.

"I am glad. Then as the first action of our joint efforts I would like to ask you to bring word to Queen Daenerys when you meet with her. I have had a vision concerning her.

"You have?" She said.

Bran nodded. "The vision takes places in King's Landing during the night. I cannot say how far from now this happens, but I have reason to believe this is a future event. From her attire it seems the Queen has been sleeping recently, but in the vision she is awake. She walks to a mirror in her room, and from the mirror it can be seen that her eyes burn with red light. She looks at her visage in awe, as if she is unused to seeing it. She brings a hand across her face, feeling her features, as if for the first time. Then she grins and says: "It is done. We succeeded." When she speaks her voice, though coming from her throat, has a note that is unfamiliar. But that was when the vision ended. I saw no more."

Iledia was perplexed. "This vision… what does it mean?"

"I am not certain. Unfortunately it lacks context. I have no knowledge what events led to this outcome, nor whether this is in an inevitable outcome or merely a potential one. But since it involves the Queen she ought to be told of this. You are going to meet with her, and you are unlikely to dismiss this conversation as a strange dream. You are as good as any to deliver this information."

She laughed dryly. "I don't know about that. A stranger she has never met before, a mage, telling her of a vision that quite frankly sounds like it was lifted out of some horror story. One where she is the main character no less. I wouldn't even know how to begin explaining this to her. And what is she even to do with this information, were I to tell her? You said there was no context. She won't know how any of this relates to anything."

"Tell her the truth. Tell her it came from me. She knows of my powers. If you name me as the source, she will accept your explanation. What she does with this information is a choice she gets to make herself. We are merely to deliver it." He said.

"I see. I suppose I can tell her this, though I don't know what good it will do. I believe our conversation is concluded for the time being." She said.

"Wait. There is one more matter." He said calmly.

"What?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Tiraen. She is in Essos." He said.

She looked mildly surprised at first, then bowed her head, turning her back on him. "I know." She said quietly.

"You will not turn her." He said.

She turned back to him sharply. "You don't know that!" She snapped.

Bran just smiled sadly. "She is lost to the darkness in her heart. Your old friend will never come back to you."

"I was just as lost to that darkness as she was. Yet I woke up. I saw the truth, and turned back from that path. If I can, so could she. I know she could." She retorted.

"The time to change her mind was many years ago, before even you were ready to do so. Now it is far too late. The price required to accomplish that is one you will not pay, as you shall discover." He said.

"I must try at least. If you were in my position what you would do?" She said.

"If I had lived your life? Had had your experiences? I suppose I would try. And if you had lived my life you would tell me the exact same thing I just told you. Try it then, if you must. But make sure you are ready to act should you fail." He said.

"I will do what I must, when I must. But when that will be is when I choose." She said.

"So be it. We will converse again at another time. For now you should… wake up!" He said.

No sooner had he said that that she snapped awake in the quarters provided to her at Eastwatch, sitting up on the bed.


	55. Chapter 54

**Chapter 54; Thine doom revealed**

**Characters of the chapter **

**Flavius **Commander in the 5th expeditionary legion of Tevinter

**Iustinius **Soldier of the Tevinter Imperium

**Tiraen Tasvius, **Magister of the Tevinter Imperium, ambassador to Meereen, commander of the 5th expeditionary legion of Tevinter, formerly apprentice to magister Cato Argos

Tiraen put one foot in front of the other, ascending the slope before her, then stopped and looked behind her at the exhausted faces of the rest of her team. At long last they had reached the mountain and were now climbing it in search for the door she had seen. Here the power she had sensed permeated everything. Soon she would know what that power was. Soon it would be in her hands and they could start the journey home. And odds were she would need that power if she ever wanted to get out of Valyria alive.

Using her magic to save her crew had had an unintended side effect. That much power had attracted a great number of spirits, looking for her no doubt. Only the amulets had kept them from being discovered by the horde. But remembering that the amulets could not protect them from possessed creatures or detection at close ranges, she had concluded that getting back through all of the creatures unnoticed was unlikely. Using her powers again to drive them away was dangerous and would only attract even more spirits, but without them her people were unlikely to win against so many. Their only chance now was to hope that he power inside this mountain could be harnessed by her and used to protect them on the way home.

She had kept these thoughts to herself, but she suspected that the smartest of her crew had caught on anyway, because all the talk about turning back had died down. Even Iustinius, the most reluctant of the bunch, had shut up and done his job without further complaints. That was not to say that this final stretch had not been hard on them. The veritable eternity spent in this miserable dead land had brought every one of them to a breaking point. Now her soldiers followed her commands with tired mindlessness, because they still clung to their desire to live, and knew her way was the only one where survival might be possible. But the good thing was that they were close to their objective now. Now they just had to find that damn door.

The search continued for a time longer and Tiraen sent Flavius and a few others ahead to look for the entrance. As they went on ahead she could not shake the feeling that they were being watched. That feeling had been there for the past several days. At first she had attributed that feeling to the tide of demons at their heels. But now she was starting to think that didn't quite sound right. Then again, maybe she was just being paranoid. Certainly enough had happened lately for that to be the case.

"My Lady! Over here! It's here!" Flavius called from a higher vantage, bringing her thoughts back to the here and now. She motioned to the soldiers around her and they rejoined Flavius's group. There she saw what he had seen. A stone door leading into the depths of this shattered volcano.

"At last." She said, a wide smile on her lips. "What we seek is somewhere inside. I will go first in case there are leftover magical defenses. What we have seen implies that this was a place of magic wielders after all. Stay close and…" She said before suddenly stopping, eyes scanning the surrounding landscape.

"What is it?" Flavius asked, noting her sudden alertness.

"Movement. Something trying to hide." She simply said. That statement brought weapons to the hands of every Tevinter.

"Demons?" Iustinius asked.

"I'm not sure. But I think demons would not bother trying to stay out of sight. Their kind either come straight at you or make themselves part if the scenery. Or mess up your mind so they don't appear dangerous." She said, staff in hand.

"But what else could it be?" He asked.

"Anything." She said with a shrug.

For a time there was silence as they sought to find the source of the movement she had spotted.

"There!" One of her soldiers shouted, pointing. That was the last thing he had time to say before a trio of arrows pierced his chest. More arrows began flying at the Tevinters, making them seek cover. Seconds later a blast of blue energy melted the stone next to the one she was hiding behind, making her curse. The barrage continued, slim figures emerging into view.

"Elves." She realized. Elves in finer looking armor than she had ever seen their kind wear, armed with bows, with curved swords at their hips. One of the elves carried a staff as well, marking him for a mage. There were slightly more of them than there were living Imperials currently, perhaps fifteen all told,

"Just what kind of elves were these?" She thought. It was not entirely out of the question to see a band of elves fighting. She had fought elven insurgents back home and heard of Dalish clans. But neither of those two groups fit the description of what she was seeing now. And how on earth had elves managed to come to this forsaken place where none but her team was supposed to be able to survive!?

The barrage of arrows and spells continued on relentlessly, pinning the Tevinters down. They could not advance, and neither could they return fire. Even if they did have chance of taking aim most of her crew had expended their arrows already.

Iustinius got an arrow through his head when he peeked out of cover for a split second too long, and Tiraen cursed again. This would not do. Focusing her mind she once again removed the amulet from around her neck. This time she was expecting the surge of voices and pain that followed and was able to regain her focus far more quickly. Still, she was surprised at how much easier it was this time. Perhaps she was adjusting to this place, or maybe there were less spirits in the vicinity, making it easier to endure.

She placed the amulet into a pouch on her belt and focused her magic to creating a sphere of energy from which arrows and spells bounced off of. She expanded the barrier outwards until all her soldiers were protected within it.

"Move close to me!" She shouted, and her troops gathered around her, allowing her to shrink the barrier to a more easily manageable size. Then she stood up and began to walk towards the enemy, her troops moving close by. As they neared she shrunk the barrier a little more to ensure the elves remained on the outside of it. As the Tevinters moved closer the elves backed way but would not depart. Instead they fired with everything they had to pierce the sphere. She felt every impact against the barrier as a sort of twitch in her mind, straining her focus. But she persevered and moved forward, keeping the shield up. Very soon her group was close enough for only a short dash to bring them to melee range. Seeing this the elves began to draw their swords.

"Attack!" She shouted, then made the barrier explode outwards, knocking most of the elves off their feet. The elven mage however performed some counterspell and remained standing. Then her people charged and engaged the still prone elves. Tiraen for her part felt that maintaining the barrier had drained her mana reserves somewhat. She required more power. Fortunately there was an ample supply within her reach.

She extended her free hand and the closest six elves began screaming as streams of red light left their bodies, drawn into her palm. Their bodies shriveled and dried up as blood was vacated from their veins. At the same time red light climbed out from the depths of her eyes until they shone like stars. Drained of blood the empty husks of the elves lay crumpled on the ground.

"NO! YOU MONSTER!" The elven mage shouted in horror, flinging a bolt of energy at her, which she deflected with a wave of her hand, smirking. She pointed her staff at him, lighting erupting from its tip, tracing a glowing line on the ground. The elf stepped out of the way and made stone grow at her feet. Before she could react she was encased inside a stone statue in her likeness, unable to move or breathe. Then a shockwave tore the statue apart as she broke free, scattering shards sharp as knives in every direction. She waved her hand, using force magic to send a cloud of them at her opponent, but the elf simply threw up a barrier of his own, deflecting the shards.

Then Tiraen suddenly stopped in her assault. She stood there, grinning, eyes still glowing with red light. She raised her arm, palm pointed towards the sky, as if offering to take the elf's hand. Unnoticed by him, some of the shards that had ended up behind him floated off the ground, hovering in the air.

The elven mage stared at her, his confidence apparently not shaken in the slightest. "You are strong in you magics, shemlen, but there is no way that you could possibly – HURK!" He said, cut short when she closed her hand into a fist and the shards pierced him from behind. He swayed, then fell on his back, the shards further piercing him as he fell on them.

Tiraen turned her head and saw that the fight elsewhere had also come to an end. The battle had been a brutal one for her people, the elves proving themselves excellent fighters. Aside from her only Flavius and two others were still alive. If not for her magical endeavors the Tevinters might have been overwhelmed altogether.

Calmly Tiraen placed the amulet back around her neck, then walking to where the elven mage lay on the ground, still barely alive. As she neared she was surprised, to see no defensive means like the amulet she wore on the elf. Since to her mind being in this place without protection was simply impossible, she concluded that he must have simply lost his means sometime during the fight. Not that it mattered to her in the end.

"You really ought to watch your back during a fight. You'd live longer. Though I suppose the opportunity to learn has passed you by." She mocked as she knelt beside him, her eyes returning to their normal appearance as the magic abated.

"Where did you people come from? Who sent you here and what for?" She then asked.

The elf gave her a contemptuous look and said nothing.

"Not going to respond, eh? Apparently not the talkative type then. That's alright. I can already guess your motive if nothing else. You are here for the same reason we are. The power that is here… you feel it as well do you not?"

The look in the elf's face told her everything she needed to know.

"Yes. I see that you do. Too bad for you then I guess. You lost. Now this prize belongs to the Imperium." She said with a smirk.

"You have no claim to it, usurper! The power within that mountain belongs to the elvenkind!" The mage finally protested.

Tiraen laughed. "Elves? That is who you fight for? Their future?"

"Actually, that does make a kind of sense, given the composition of your group." She mused.

"But really, has anyone ever heard of a more pathetic cause than that of the elves? Your race is done for. Humanity's supremacy crushed your decadent little empire two thousand years ago. Now this is our world, whereas you are just fading echoes, relics of a bygone age no longer relevant, doomed to slide into oblivion and vanish from existence. One day your people will be but a memory, then not even that. The privileged among you may be permitted to be our slaves, before joining the rest of you in silence." She ridiculed him.

"You understand nothing, usurper! Of your past or your future. Your ignorance is matched only by your innate cruelty! But the Dread Wolf shall correct this world, restoring what was sundered, cleansing scum like you from our world. There will be none of your kind left. Enjoy the taste of your victory, usurper, for it is fleeting, and will soon turn to ashes in your mouth. Claim you victory for Tevinter, and know your barbaric nation shall soon face annihilation." The elf countered.

"The Dread Wolf? That is what you call your master? How dramatic. I shall remember that name, should it come up later. Thank you for giving it to me." She said.

"And you say he brings a great cataclysm? A day of annihilation for humanity? Who knows? Perhaps you're right." She said in a tone that said she believed it not at all.

"Well, be that as it may…" She said, standing up and placing her boot on his throat. "…you won't live to see it!" She finished and broke his neck, savoring the crack of breaking bone.

With the final elf dead she turned her attention to those of her group that had survived… and those that had not. The gleeful savagery she had felt on killing the enemy mage was replaced with a look of sorrow as she took note how many of her own had fallen. But that mood only lasted for a brief while before being replaced by a look of steely determination.

"Come. There is nothing more we can do for the dead and we cannot stay here. The amount of magic tossed about in this fight, not to mention all these deaths… it will attract more spirits in hordes." She told the others.

"What can the four of us do against all of them?" Flavius asked.

"On our own? Nothing. Our objective has not changed. One last hope remains for us, somewhere beyond that door."

Then she proceeded to enter the volcano, what was left of her team following behind her. They found themselves within a large circular hall with more doorways to staircases leading up and down everywhere. At a glance it looked vaguely familiar to her, but she did not have time to observe it further. They had just passed the threshold when they were hit by another vision. What they saw was two men entering through the door they had just come through.

"Proceeding with this plan of yours now… I can't support that. Soon, but not yet. I'm sorry my friend." One of the two men said.

"I hardly need you approval. Enough of the others have already given me their support. The gathering of the Mountain of Sorcerers sides with me." Said the other.

"Think about this Verkhantys! We do not know enough about the artefact we discovered during our expedition into the Elven mirror network. We do not know what it is or what it does. All we do know is that it is immensely powerful and so potentially incredibly dangerous." The first one said.

"It is indeed powerful, which is exactly what we need Mernegar. Have you forgotten the peril the Freehold is in? Valyria is dying. The world doesn't know it, thankfully. And our rulers will refuse to believe in the possibility until the end is upon them. But even so it is true." Verkhantys countered angrily.

"With the shroud having damaged our spellcasting we can no longer weave draconic essence to that of our people. Without that capability each time a Valyrian produces a child with a foreigner dragonic essence becomes more diluted in the blood of their child, degrading our people's ability to control dragons. Amongst the commoners the ability is already lost, at best leaving them the Valyrian features and nothing else. Often not even that. Careful intermarrying between the noble houses may have bought us time, but in every generation there are a few disobedient ones that marry from the outside, having children with corrupted lines or even foreigners. The remaining pure bloodlines become more and more broken as closer and closer relatives are made to marry. The Targaryen family may have gone too far in marrying brother to sister, driven to desperate measures after their political failures made them an unpopular prospect for marriage with the other houses. But the other houses will be driven to the same soon enough, mark my words. And as the surviving bloodlines become more broken we are saddled with more and more defective births, half dragon abominations that do not live a day, further diminishing the stock of the pureblooded." Then explained in a tirade.

"You don't need to explain that to me. I know this well." Mernegar said, annoyed.

"Then doubtless you understand what will happen unless this state of affairs is fixed. Unless we find some source of power strong enough to overcome that of the shroud and allow us to resume essence weaving we will eventually lose our ability to command the dragons. If that happens, then the next rebellion raised against us will end us all. The freehold has made precious few friends, and millions of enemies. As soon as they sense weakness they will all strike at us. Our nation and all our accomplishments will be burned to the ground by the angry hordes. Our people will be made slaves as revenge for all those the Valyrians have enslaved. Tell me truly, my friend, is this what you want to see happen?" Verkhantys kept on talking.

"No. It is not. And…" Mernegar said before being interrupted.

"Then why do you fight me over this? For thousands of years, ever since the shroud appeared, we mages have labored in vain to find a solution. Once we unlock the power within this artefact we may finally have the answer to our question. And what do you do? You shy away and reject it. Why?" Verkhantys said.

"All I'm saying is that we should inform the Dragon Lords and the Senate of this attempt. They ought to be told, and we ought to do something like this only with their blessing." Mernegar said.

"I'm not willing to wait months or years as they debate over a decision that doesn't belong to them. The Dragon Lords like to think they run the Freehold, as does the Senate. But it is we mages who are the true caretakers of our civilization. It is our work that allows our people to command dragons, who in turn build our houses, create our steel and win our wars. Meanwhile our supposed leaders have endangered us all with their constant expansion and mistreatment of subjugated peoples. This choice belongs to us, and we have made the right one. The only one." Verkhantys countered.

Mernegar sighed. "At least allow me some time to make sure the unlocking process is safe. There is still much we do not know of elven magic. If we make a mistake with this much power involved the potential for devastation is substantial."

"You have three days." Verkhantys said.

"That's not quite enough. A week perhaps…" Mernegar said.

"Three days. That is how long it will take to set up the ritual. That is the only delay I am willing to tolerate. If you wish to prove an error in the process exists, that is your deadline. So I suppose you should get to work." Verkhantys said and left towards one of the staircases. Mernegar shook his head in frustration and went in the opposite direction, presumably to begin his own work. That was where the vision ended.

"Puzzling. So there really is an elven artefact here, the source of the power I sense. No wonder they were after it then. But what was all this talk about a shroud? I wonder if they were talking about the Veil? But that makes no sense. The Veil has always been a part of our world. Hasn't it? But they spoke as if… as if there had been a time before, a long time ago. Truly puzzling…" She mused.

"My Lady, we ought to keep moving. Do you know which wat to go next?" Flavius asked. The whole time after the fight he had not sheathed his sword, probably expecting demons to jump out at them any minute.

Tiraen closed her eyes for a moment and concentrated. "Yes…" She said then, her voice scarcely above a whisper. Without another word she moved to a flight of stairs going upwards her people following.

The stairs seemed to go on endlessly, going higher, ever higher. Along the way they came across doors leading to what she guessed were the private studies of mages full of books, as well as laboratories containing equipment, some of which looked vaguely similar to what her people might use in their studies, while other were strange things whose purpose she could only guess at. Tiraen wished they would have more time to study this place. The books were probably useless by now, so old they would crumble to dust if anyone so much as breathed at them. But the laboratory equipment might yield valuable clues to the magical learning of the Valyrians, perhaps even some items that might be directly useable once researched and their secrets unraveled. Alas, there was only one thing within this mountain that they had time for. And after they had it they would have to start their return home promptly. The Imperial supplies had been getting low, though now that the majority of her team had been killed that might no longer be a problem. Perhaps they might even make it to their ship without resorting to the water they had finally collected from the local ground pools. It had proven drinkable enough, but it tasted awful and brought bizarre, disturbing dreams which led to everyone staying away from it while normal water was still an option.

"My Lady, during the vision the Valyrian mages spoke of something they called the elven mirror network. What do you think that was about? And how could they have knowledge of elves when the elven homeland is so far away and we only discovered these lands recently?" Flavius asked as they were walking.

"I believe that the mages were referring to the Eluvian network. If that is the case it can help answer your second question. Also to explain how there could be elves here now."

"The Eluvians?" Flavius asked, not recognizing the world.

Tiraen nodded. "The Eluvians are kind of mirrors. Magical ones. Commonly thought of as something originating in our homeland, but in truth of Elven make. The Imperium has known of these artefacts for some time and in the old days our Magisters used them to communicate over vast distances. But apparently communication was not their primary function. Perhaps not even an intended one. There have been those who suggested that the Elven Empire was a diffused realm. They claim that while the bulk of their nation existed within Thedas small outposts existed in remote locations all over the world. Some have even spoken of pocket dimensions fashioned from the fabric of the Fade itself. Instead of roads the various corners of the Elven Empire were connected with these mirrors, allowing almost instantaneous travel between them. The sources that claimed this weren't entirely reputable, so at one time I didn't think much of it. But it was the Master's plan at one time to use one of these mirrors to reach the fade physically, so he could then go on to claim the power residing in the Black City. So I suppose those claims must be true." She explained.

"Hmm. That would explain a few things. And you believe the elves we faced used these mirrors to come here?" He asked.

"That is what makes most sense right now. But that creates a host of other questions. Like how elves of today could have the knowledge to use the Eluvians like this when even the magisters of could not manage it? Something to ponder I suppose, though I doubt very much we will find the answer today." She said.

The staircase seemed to be leading them straight to the volcano's summit As the Tevinters climbed ever higher, the damage the mountain had taken became more obvious. In many places holes had been blown or melted into the walls, showing the world outside. In other places the stairs had been broken, making the Tevinters circle around or jump over gaping chasms. On the higher levels the staircase occasionally emerged into the open, with a wall of air on one or both sides. Tiraen was reminded of how the first vision they had seen had referenced an explosion that had happened at this mountain, one that had effectively brought the Doom upon Valyria. Whatever had happened back then had started here. She could feel that she was on the cusp of discovering the truth of what had destroyed the Valyrian Empire, and that it was somehow related to the power she had felt ever since setting foot in these dead lands, the power she was still feeling, stronger than ever.

Soon that power would be hers.

At last her team emerged to a hall of stone, carved from stone of the volcano itself, though the surfaces that remained intact were too smooth to ever have known a chisel or pickaxe. At one time this might have been an enclosed space, but now it opened to the skies, the jagged remains of the summit all around them. At the center of the hall there was a pedestal. On the ground around it there were peculiar scorch marks roughly in the shape of people. And on the pedestal itself…

It was an orb of black stone, roughly the size of a Qunari cannonball, its surface rippled with shapes akin to fingerprints in appearance. Green energy slowly swirled around it. To her mage-senses it emanated immense power, almost unbearably so. There was no question that this was the source of the power she has sensed.

She had seen an object exactly like this one, long ago, when she had still been a youth of perhaps seventeen years. Even so she had to squint, unsure if her eyes were telling it true.

"An Orb? Like the one the Master wielded?" She gasped. Then there was a flash of white light as yet another vision came upon them.

The hall was now whole once more, the walls lined with glowing marks. From their design Tiraen guessed they were meant to regulate the flow of magical energy, protection against a destructive overload of power. The orb lay on a silk pillow upon the pedestal, vibrating slightly, faint spears of light emanating from it now and then. Surrounding the orb were a group of people, on their knees, arms raised and magical energy glowing on their palms. She spotted Verkhantys there also, walking a slow circle around the others, his eyes locked on the orb.

"Yes. The barrier locking the artefact weakens. I can feel the power within starting to stir. And there is so much of it… more than we will ever need. The Valyrian Freehold is saved my friends!" He said with a smile.

"Great One, the artefact is beginning to respond to our ritual, pushing against the locking barrier on its own. A few moments longer and our participation will no longer be required for the unlocking process to finish." One of the kneeling spellcasters said.

"Excellent. Then we are nearly done. How are the protective wards doing?" Verkhantys said.

"They are holding for now, Great One. But the strain on them is very great. We ought to finish the process soon, else there might be issues." Another spellcaster reported.

"We will be. Continue on, acolytes. Just a few moments longer." Verkhantys reassured the others.

"Stop! Stop! Interrupt the ritual!" A haggard looking Mernegar shouted, running into the hall, a piece of paper in his hand. The acolytes lowered their hands, looking at Mernegar uncertainly. The orb on the other had continued to tremble ever more violently, the light coming from it glowing brighter by the second. None among the Valyrians noticed this due to the drama unfolding.

"How dare you interfere with a ritual in process!? Have some manners man!" Verkhantys said angrily.

"Mernegar, I know you had your doubt about this plan, but the time to change my mind about this came and went. Now…" he began to say.

"You've made a mistake you fool! The energy of the artefact isn't merely hidden behind the lock-barrier, but constrained behind it, constantly straining to be released! Like water behind a dam! Your unlocking procedure is akin to taking a sledgehammer to the walls of that dam! Once the lock barrier-breaks…!" Mernegar shouted back in a panic, paying the other mages protests no mind.

"Do you think I was born yesterday? We have set wards. Any excess energy will be safely siphoned away." Verkhantys cut in.

"They won't hold! The energy release won't be released at a constant rate, but exponentially! A magical explosion that will tear apart anything in its path! It will destroy us all!" Mernegar screamed.

"Exponential release? Magical explosion? What kind on nonsense…" Verkhantys said before the Mernegar shoved the paper in his hands to his face. Irritated, Verkhantys snatched the paper and began to read it. Then his expression became one of horror. "No…" He breathed.

"Abort the ritual! Immediately!" He shouted at the acolytes.

"We cannot, Great One! The process has become self-sufficient! It's out of our control!" One of the acolytes screamed.

"It too late. We're too late…" Mernegar said in realization.

"Valyria… our people… What have we done? What have WE DONE!?" He said, collapsing into a sobbing ball on the floor.

"No! Use a failsafe! Destroy the artefact! SOMEONE DO SOMETHING!" Verkhantys shouted in vain. Then a blindingly bright green light emanated from the orb, evaporating the pillow it was on and every Valyrian in the room. In the gale of light the marks on the walls began to flicker and die out, the ones farthest from the entrance failing first. Then a shockwave emanated from the orb, ripping open the hall. The surviving wards deflected a portion of the shockwave, the majority of its power projected in a single direction, sundering one side of the mountain utterly. The shockwave swept on to an immense city in the distance, reducing it to dust and rubble in an instant. Next green flame began rapidly spreading from the base of the mountain, wreathing the landscape in a firestorm. In the distance Tiraen spied a chain of other volcanoes erupting simultaneously, filling the air with smoke and ash. Shapes that could only have been dragons could be seen tumbling from the sky all around.

When the vision finally faded away the Tevinters were too stunned to do or say anything. They simply stood there, staring at the orb that had done all this. Tiraen was the first to move, slowly walking to the orb, continuing to look at it as if mesmerized. Once more she removed the amulet from around her neck, then raised her hand to touch the orb. When her hand brushed against its rippled surface she gave out a gasp of delight as the orb tuned itself to her magic, becoming an extension of her own power.

"It's active. The Valyrians did manage to unlock it then." She said, her eyes closed, a wide smile on her lips, her hand continuing to caress the orb.

"I see now. I understand the fate of the Valyrians. Their Empire was in decline, a rot spreading in its foundations. The world knew this not, nor did their own people. But the mages of their nation knew, and sought to stave off the destruction with this elven artefact they had uncovered. But when they tried to unlock it the same thing happened to them as happened with the orb we had during the Breach War. The magical energies contained within were released as a massive explosion that tore the veil asunder with it. What was supposed to be the salvation of the Valyrian Empire instead became the killing blow to finish it. In Thedas the explosion caused a chain reaction that could have unraveled the Veil in its entirety. But in this part of the world the Veil is stronger and must have been able to eventually contain the destruction on its own, preventing further tearing of the veil. But far too late for the Valyrian people. Meanwhile the orb, now unlocked, has awaited here all this time for someone to claim it. And now, at long last… someone has." She said in deep contemplation.

"Thank you, ancients of Valyria, ancients of Arlathan, for your tribute to us. Thanks to your sacrifice the Imperium will grow, will prosper… will flourish. And she will overcome all our enemies." She said then, removing the orb from the pedestal.

"My Lady, I know this is likely very fascinating and all, but I do not think this is the right time for a history lesson. The demons will be on us soon. If we don't have the means to defend ourselves by the time they find us we are all going to die." Flavius said, his attention turned towards the entrance, his voice tense.

"Do not be worried commander. From this point forward demons will be beneath our notice, no matter their numbers." She said, grinning as she turned to him.

The orb was now hovering above her palm, crackling with energy.

* * *

**So here it is, book 1 of this story in its entirety. Now begins my work on book 2. Hope you have all enjoyed the journey. If you have thoughts of the story thus far you'd like to share, feel free to leave a review or PM me. Also if you know of anyone who might like reading this, feel free to spread the word. **

**Until next time. **


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